I Am Arya
by SimplySupreme
Summary: Some days it's all she can do to keep on going. Love is all around her, but Arya clings to the only thing that makes sense: duty. But then again, without duty, who are we really? Book 4 style fic, entirely in Arya's POV. EXA, SXT, MXN Everything is IC!
1. Chapter 1

_**How about a short note before we begin, shall we? This first chapter is a little preview of what continued, the entire story might be like. As you can see, it is POV Arya, and it will basically be a continuation of the Eragon story beginning with the end of Brisingr. I beg you all to PLEASE R&R! (I want to know if this is good enough to bother continuing.) So please enjoy! :)**_

As Arya stepped delicately into her small tent, a temporary housing provided to her by the Varden, she felt as if she were 1,000 years of age, not a mere 100. For, the past few hours (she really was unable to recall how many) had been a chaotic blur of agony, fear, anger, exuberance, and heartbreak. So many had died; some by her hand, many by others', and even now she relived the moments when she had truly believed that she would be dragged into their ranks. But in simile to a cat, she was surprisingly alive, as well as the majority of those she cared for.

With a little sigh of utter and complete exhaustion, the tall elfish princess sank into her rough little cot, listening with detached interest to the noises from outside the canvas walls of her oasis. Horses, men, weapons… even a dragon. And with her she assumed, that dragon's rider.

Eragon Shadeslayer. This was his name. And now, as she recalled (but was rather disinclined to believe) she shared it. Arya Drottningu Shadeslayer.

She snorted in derision.

What a name, she thought. It was a title to challenge even the greatest of nobles, and the greatest of heroes. Something her mother would waste little time in pointing out to her. With marked irritation, Arya sat back up and began pulling from her the gore-splattered armor she still wore from the now concluded battle in Feinster. Nasuada had been entirely correct; she must confront Islanzadi, and in no sluggish fashion, but now was an inopportune moment for this. For the moment, she must rest. The issue of the Eldunari must wait, as well as the officious display of what Arya assumed was meant to be motherly love.

Leaning wearily back once more, the raven-haired woman smiled slightly, her pearly teeth exposed for the most fleeting of moments. _I am alive. I am a heroine. And I am one day closer to that hour when I shall bear witness to the feat of Eragon and Saphira tearing the craven head from Galbatorix's vile shoulders. _And Arya, having attained some measure of peace, drifted into her waking dreams, not suspecting or even much caring about what the morning might bring.


	2. A Brief Little Start

**_Well, the votes are in, and those who left reviews (10 out of 183. Not too shabby, but I think you could do a LOT better guys!) all said to continue. So I will! I must say that I had a lot of trouble with my computer because every time I went to update, an error notice popped up and I was unable to carry on. But I finally got around that, hence this update. I apologize for my incompetence. PLEASE R&R with your feedback, good or bad, I welcome both. *picture me on my knees begging for reviews, pathetic little tears streaming down my agonized face*_**

The morning announced itself with little fanfare, simply creeping into being little by little, until one couldn't be sure where night ended and day began. But it wasn't until the sun was high in the sky that Arya woke, refreshed considerably, the simple two-man tent she occupied seeming much cleaner, if barren, in the light of day. She then set to work wrestling her thick ebony tresses back into her headband and healing herself of a few minor cuts and bruises she hadn't the energy to tend beforehand, while mentally, she briefed herself on what the day might hold for her. Certainly it would be just as chaotic as her surroundings. Even from within her tent, which was just outside of Feinster, Arya could still distinctly detect in the air traces of lingering smoke and blood.

A polite little rap sounded on the wooden support of the door flap then, and the emerald-eyed woman gracefully ducked outside to greet the messenger, an extremely apprehensive boy, that awaited her.

"Yes?" Arya asked of him, causing him to jump violently and, mortified, hold out to her with trembling hands a clean little scroll that was stamped with Nasuada's seal of authenticity. Taking it gently, the woman suppressed the urge to laugh as the messenger boy gave an awkward bow and departed with unnecessary haste. The letter, as her slanted emerald eyes took in its contents with uncanny speed, read with the classic concise style of any fighting forces' notes; but it was merely a request for Arya's presence at Nasuada's new command center, her old red pavilion that was newly erected at the doors of the keep.

Sighing slightly with some relief to the prospect of a constructive task to complete (Nasuada would no doubt keep her busy) Arya tucked the scroll into her belt and aimed herself towards the keep, allowing her pace to remain at a walk due to the vast swarms of humans busy at work in every square inch of space. The crowds admittedly made Arya highly uncomfortable, but she forced herself to be satisfied of her current level of personal safety, which was ensured by her numerous wards and her constant mental presence in the unwitting persons surrounding her.

"Arya!" called a voice excitedly. Patiently, the elf halted her progress through the city as none other than Eragon hurried to her side, his chocolate brown hair flopping into his eyes as he bounded along like a puppy.

She smiled in greeting as he fell in step beside her. "Are you, too, en route to attend to Nasuada, Eragon?" she asked of him quietly.

"Aye," He solemnly confirmed, "I am unsurprised by her constant action. No doubt she will be quite exhausted when we arrive, but it is unlike her to rest when there is work to be done."

Nodding thoughtfully at this, Arya maintained the silence for a short while before enquiring softly, so no passerby might overhear, "And how do you and Saphira fare in the aftermath? And Glaedr?" Her eyes stung slightly at the mention of the older dragon, but she refused to cry. Crying solved nothing.

Eragon's shoulders slumped as the crushing fact of his tutors' deaths settled upon him once more. "Devastated, the both of us." He admitted shakily. "But there will be time to mourn them in the future, as they wouldn't want us to lose focus. Glaedr remains the same, and I am unwilling to talk to him when he is unprepared to do so." He added sorrowfully.

Briefly, Arya took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. It was all she thought that she could really do in the ways of giving solace. Chewing on her lip anxiously, she cast her eyes ahead to where she knew Blohdgarm and the other elves to be awaiting Eragon's arrival. "I owe them an explanation." She whispered tightly, upswept eyebrows pulling together in a slight frown, "And I dread doing so. I must confess myself to be a bit of a coward in the face of describing…" Unable to conclude, Arya shook her head and held her eyes closed for a moment.

Eragon was about to respond to this when the pair reached the pavilion. Somber in her mannerisms, Arya greeted the other elves, as did Eragon, and then moved on to the Nighthawks, who ushered her through their ranks with expressions of stone. Everything within the command tent was washed with reddened sunlight, giving all objects a slightly ruddy tint.

"Ah. There you two are. I was beginning to wonder." Nasuada's voice was brisk and businesslike in its inflection, but Arya knew there to be underlying traces of exhaustion. The rebel leader's furniture, which had at one point been almost completely destroyed by Saphira, had been replenished, and now stood just as it once had. But this time, the mirror, which had so often stood as a window to another face, held a new character, who had previously been unreachable via scrying. Queen Islanzadi.

"My Lady." Arya commented as off-handedly as possible to the mirror as Eragon offered his respectful salutations to both Queen and leigelord. "Nasuada." This was uttered with a bit more warmth than usual, in an effort to impress upon her mother the subtle hints of discord. In Arya's opinion, the Queen should never have, despite any good intentions, withheld the information regarding the dragons' heart-of-hearts from her. As an elf herself, Arya could understand misinforming the Varden of information so delicate as the Eldunari, as humans were as unreliable as they were predictable. But as her one and only daughter, as well as sole ambassador, Arya felt deeply and bitterly betrayed by the blatant display of mistrust that was Islanzadi's retention of such information. As for Eragon's ignorance, the green-eyed elf felt even more rage on his behalf then on hers. Tight-fisted as she and Oromis were with any useful information that could have spared many lives and undertakings, Eragon and Saphira could well have been captured and enslaved.

The pair of them were perhaps some of the closest to her heart of all beings, ones she rightly considered to be her friends, and it was completely unacceptable to her that they had needlessly been placed in harm's way.

But as these hot emotions roiled belligerently within her, not a soul was the wiser, as Arya wore her trademarked blank facade as only she could, with perfection. To any observer, the woman was the least ruffled of any in the pavilion, her forest eyes the deepest pools of tranquility.

"How fared the capture of Feinster, Nasuada?" the Queen asked of the Varden's leader docilely, ignoring Arya (message received) "Gil'ead fell before us with minimal casualties, excepting… a rather respected noble."

"Arya has given my permission to tell others, great Queen," Eragon murmured deliberately to Islanzadi, "Of my tutors. Nasuada has already been informed of them, as well as their deaths. Your farce is baseless now."

Appearing slightly irritated, eyes flashing for the briefest of moments at her daughter in the greatest confusion (for how should Arya be aware of this news in such a timely manner?) the elfin leader then conceded, "Forgive me, Nasuada, for my deception, but as you now no doubt comprehend, it was a necessary evil to protect them."

Nasuada smiled congenially, expression not reaching her eyes, and assured the face in the mirror that all was indeed forgiven and forgotten. For the next better part of an hour, all present informed the others of their experiences and feats of battle. Arya learned of Thorn and Murtaugh's ambush of the elfin soldiers, while both Nasuada and Islanzadi heard from Eragon (Arya wasn't feeling particularly inclined to discuss her experience at the moment) greater details of their bout with the shade, Varoug. To Arya, the entire affair was a long, drawling experience, and she itched to run; an activity that was mindless and afforded her little time to think. She could not condone this however, as she was duty-bound to be aware of all the happenings in Alagaesia. And so she endured.

Once the meeting had finally reached its conclusion, Arya stepped nonchalantly up to the mirror bearing the face of her mother and hissed quietly so that none might hear (although, Eragon, with his elf-like senses, did, but made no comment) "There is much I would discuss with you, mother, were we alone. I shall contact you at a less tumultuous time, but when I do, I expect us to take part in some rather spirited debates."

Instead of appearing angry or affronted however, Islanzadi's features softened a bit, a webbing of fine lines appearing at the corner of her large, sparkling eyes. "Oh Arya," the Queen fluted in a saddened tone, "You know I love you. Why avoid the fact? Likeable or not, furious or not, I could never harm you. Irritation clouds your thinking and inhibits your logic, I can see this even now. You may despise me, my daughter," she continued in a velvety voice, "But believe me, I do what I think best for you, even if you cannot perceive this."

Arya blinked in mild astonishment, but before she had time to properly react, Islanzadi had dissolved into nothingness, and the elf was left staring into her own green-eyed face; a face not so dissimilar from the one so recently there. And in comparison, she appeared not noble or bold, but young, startled, and genuinely fearful of the horrors she knew were to come.

**_Replying to Inkweaverabc...  
_****_Brutally honest? Fantastic! I love your barbarism, and hope it can be repeated in the near future. Thanks a million for your instructions on how to use my computer (I'm so helpless it's rather sad) so a round of applause for our amazing friend IW, everyone, because she's the reason you're reading this now! _8D**

**_Replying to Rocxi...  
_****_Thanks for your encouragement! I'm really glad you think I did well, and I hope you become a regular reader._**

**_Replying to Anonymous...  
_****_I love Arya POVs too, hence this one. (Another good one I found was by the author Shur'tagal. She never finished it, but it's still worth looking up.) I know my first chapter was really short, but as you know, it was just a sample, and this chapter is more like the length future ones will be. Thanks for the review!_**

**_Replying to Ever Greenn...  
_****_Thanks! I try really hard to get Arya just right and do the character justice, and I'm glad you liked her! Keep reading and commenting!_**

**_Replying to FlexManSteel...  
_****_Well, I hope this next little entry will give you a better idea of the direction I'm going, even though I haven't really gotten into the action-y parts yet. (Don't worry, they're a-comin')_**

**_Replying to Random...  
_****_I will! Please read!_**

**_Replying to Skyboards...  
_****_You too? I thought it was just me who hated that! In this story I am going to attempt to portray a relationship, and not only is all of that completely uncharacteristic of Arya's character, it is unrealistic of any relationship, especially in a time of extreme stress, like a war. I'm jazzed that you enjoyed my story so much, and I hope you leave more reviews!_**

**_Replying to Rheya...  
_****_Thanks for the tip on the scenery, I'll try to improve that next time. Feel free to point it out to me any time I slip up!_**

**_Replying to Sarcasm. Is. Me. 17...  
I'm so glad you liked it! Thanks! I welcome any pointers you'd like to give me._**


	3. An Elf and a Dragon

**_Well, I had planned on doing a more exciting chapter than this, a bit of an action-packed adventure, but this just kind of happened on my computer screen. But I wouldn't have posted it if the relationship here wasn't important, so please don't be super disappointed in me. I promise the battles and such are coming, and there will be a lot more action in the next chapter! But this will be important later on, so PAY ATTENTION, young grasshoppers! I'm on spring break right now, so the updates should be coming super-quick, because fewer essays for english means more boredom for me, and more reading for you guys! (Hooray!) Enjoy the females discussing their feelings, everyone. :P_**

It was with lithe, serpentine motions that Arya sparred, every muscle and tendon in her body singing with the exertion. Her blade was a blur of movement, as well as her feet, dancing this way and that to avoid the burning hot of her opponent's blade. The sensation was fantastic.

"Dead." Arya voiced calmly, the blocked edge of her sword tapping Caesi's throat.

The other elf froze mid-swing, then bowed. "Well fought, Arya Drottningu." Came his reply. "I see that still you cannot be bested by me." A mischievous glint lit his eyes momentarily and he crowed, "I will not concede to your iron rule! We _shall_ meet again, tyrant!"

Caesi laughed and laughed, and Arya couldn't restrain a chuckle at the old joke. (Caesi had been a bit of a tutor in magic when she was young, and he always swore that she lacked the ability of compromise, and was more than a little bossy about getting her own way.)

"Oh, off with you." The princess scolded lightly, swiping a bit of sweat from her face. "Go muster more troops, and see then if you can't defeat me."

But Caesi, rather unwilling to suffer another defeat, claimed that one humiliation was enough for the day, and strode off towards the other elves, a few of which would prove easier victories.

Arya sighed. The spar had done her good, distracting her from what she had just relayed to her fellows. Many of them had wept openly at the account of the Mourning Sage and his dragon's passing, but Arya hadn't allowed a single tear to fall. This had been difficult, but she had already had her moments of grief when Eragon had informed her. A hot flush crept up the back of her neck as she remembered this, stooping nonchalantly to unblock the edge of her sword. She didn't exactly regret her outward display of emotion in the keep, she determined, but she wouldn't say she was entirely comfortable with it.

Then again, she thought wryly, the corner of her mouth twisting into a ghost of a smile; she rarely felt what could be defined as comfortable in the aftermath of crying in front of anyone. Even beneath crushing grief such as she had felt then, and now.

Re-lacing her boots, Arya shook herself free of these thoughts and began to walk aimlessly through the city. It was unremarkable as human cities went, she decided; majestic in some areas, appallingly squalid in others. But in a rather interesting twist, Lady Lorana had indeed managed to assist the Varden after all, despite her oaths of loyalty to Galbatorix. It had been arranged between Nasuada and the Lady that, in exchange for the safe return of their leader, the soldiers and armed fighting men of Feinster would be placed under Nasuada's command. In short, the Varden received new recruits. Paid just as much as the other men, the corps would function rather like the Urgals did, with all equality established but still definitely their own division. Arya personally thought this to be an elegant solution to the issues of both neutralizing Feinster and growing in strength simultaneously.

A resounding crash utterly shattered the elf's train of thought, and she staggered slightly as the ground beneath her feet rumbled with the titanic strides of Saphira, a very irritated azure-hued dragon.

"Saphira!" Arya exclaimed, then remembered her manners and greeted the dragon formally, in the elven fashion. "How fared your hunt?"

"_Miserable,"_ The dragon growled, great ivory teeth glittering from her maw as her lip curled. _"Nothing abundant but the scrawniest of fare and mud. I just spent the past hour cleaning the horrid stuff from my talons!"_

Trying her very best to appear politely interested, Arya coolly asked, "But surely this cannot be what has you in such a passion, Saphira. The cooks are well and willing to provide any amount of food you desire, and mud is only mud."

Saphira shifted, obviously uncomfortable. "_I… fell from a tree."_ She admitted finally, embarrassed beyond belief. _"The branch gave way beneath me, and I landed in a patch of cling-bite plants. I cannot remove them myself."_ Slowly, the dragon lifted her left wing ever so slightly, revealing long strands of thorn-encrusted plant matter, which had entangled the wing most masterfully.

"You…" Arya choked, slanted green eyes bulging from the effort of bottling her mirth, "Fell from a…"

"_Hush!"_

_ "_My apologies…" emitting a strangled sound, Arya found it difficult to force the words through her teeth, which seemed intent on taking part in the widest of grins. "Come. We'll see to this."

Saphira growled her affirmative and heaved her formidable bulk after Arya's retreating form. And Arya, for her part, seemed to passerby that her very skin oozed merriment and joy, and the smiles on their faces after her passing did not seem to want to fade.

Finally, the outskirts of the city were reached, and Arya and Saphira stopped behind a large building. Lifting the wing, the elf finally laughed, much to the dragon's dismay.

"What in all of Alagaesia were you in a _tree_ for, Saphira?" Arya chuckled, beginning to untwine the thorny branches with her soft, nimble fingers.

The sapphire dragon did not respond for a long, long while. Arya sensed that perhaps she was hurt by her amusement at the predicament, but she eventually answered, in a voice so raw and _hurting_ that Arya wanted to kick herself repeatedly in punishment for her insensitivity. "_I was in the tree,"_ Saphira simpered, _"Because I was watching a mother bird tend to her eggs."_

Stunned, Arya turned to face the dragon, and met huge, damp blue eyes with angled emerald ones. "Oh Saphira," she whispered, ashamed, "I hadn't any idea…"

_"Of course you didn't." _snapped the dragon, turning away, _"It was an action at the height of foolishness, and I am not usually a foolish dragon. But I was today."_

With trembling, hesitant hands, Arya stroked the distressed dragon's rough neck, offering as much solace as she possibly could through the contact. "To want that future for yourself is by no means foolish. Not at _all_." She said softly, eyes swimming. "It is the most natural emotion that you could possibly feel, and I assure you, one day this will be resolved. I promise."

_"How could you possibly promise a mate and a family to me?"_ Saphira snorted, recovering from her pain with a burst of cynicism. _"You are but a puny elf. You are not a rider, nor are you a dragon. How could you possibly know?"_

"Do you think I am a stranger to the idea of wanting…?" Arya began hotly, but she caught herself, and then began firmly, eyes steady and intense, "Saphira. You are correct in the fact that no, I am not a rider or a dragon. But I do know a few things." She took a deep breath as the dragon turned to look at her. "I know that not only are you a beautiful creature to behold, but also beautiful within. I know that no madman could exterminate dragons entirely. I know that, when the time is right, the last dragon egg will hatch." Arya's face softened. "And I also know Eragon. He is more than just a boy, Saphira, and he has more heart than every elf in Alagaesia combined. He won't ever fail you. Ever."

All was silent between the unlikely pair for a moment, then, eyes glittering with unspoken gratitude, Saphira nosed Arya affectionately. _"If every elf was like you, I'd doubt it. But I don't think so. And I'm glad that you're my friend."_

Feeling very much that today, she was earning every inch of the Yawe tattoo on her shoulder, Arya smiled. "Now let's remove the remainder of these thorns."

**_Replying to FlexManSteel...  
Not in the tent, no. The elves remain outside with the Nighthawks, like in CP's book. Now, even then they might hear something, but being polite elves, they were taught many manners, including but not limited to, DO NOT EAVESDROP! (Although, I really like your critical thinking. Keep it up!)_**

**_Replying to Roxci...  
Very good point. I have a plan of action to help him mature, but it isn't so much that he's not already, it's just that Arya can't see past her preconception, and it will really surprise her when she does!_**

**_Replying to Inkweaverabc...  
_****_Those were some nice tips, thanks! I see what you mean about woman vs elf (done and done), as well as the Eragon description. (He doesn't appear in this chapter, but I'll work on that.) I also agree that my writing can be a little forced, so if you pick up on that, just tell me to like, chill or something, because I get a bit hyperactive while writing. My mom says it's Lexdexia (play on dyslexia) because I make my sentences so convoluted my point is lost. Now, considering my extravagant use of spell check, not only do I think I'm Lexdexic, but mildly dyslexic. It's all so stressful! *runs around in circles until a wall is collided with*_**

**_Replying to XXX...  
Well gosh, it's just so hard to be mad at you when you make it up to me the next chapter! I'm glad you recognize how annoying people who don't use spelling and grammar check are, because it's one of my pet peeves. I go to leave a review, and all I can really think to say is... "ME MAD!"_**

**_Replying to Rheya...  
Yea... sometimes I get a bit carried away with describing things... but at least I try! (Just keep yelling at me and the message might get through, but I honestly can't say.) As for Arya being ferocious, that was intentional. The elves are supposed to act all calm, but as I think you've probably noticed by now, Arya has a few issues. She's kind of like the hulk when she's mad, and she's DEFINATELY mad at her mom right now. As for spelling elven wrong, I'm taking your word for that, because my spellcheck gave me about 15 other possible choices. I'm going with version Rheya._**

**_Replying to Pie In The Face...  
_****_Thanks! I really didn't realize how hard it would be until I started, so I'm glad I'm still on top of that. As for November 8th, that is when this fic will be officially completed. If I'm not done (which I doubt) it's just gonna be tough love, because I just can't compete with CP! That's ok though, because I'll probably do the "real" Arya pov of book 4 then, or a book 5. I haven't decided. _**


	4. Something More Presentable

**_I'm on a roll guys, here's ANOTHER update! *applause* Well, as promised, there's some pretty neat action in this chapter (which is to be continued into the next one) and I have finally broached the rather sensitive topic of how Arya feels about Eragon (at least in part). I'm getting some wonderful feedback from you guys, so thankyouthankyouthankyou! If you've left a review, I love you! Note; this is not a free pass to not leave a review, merely praise for those who have. PLEASE REVIEW! I'm really trying to untangle my sentences here, so I need to know how I'm doing in my un-convoluting campaign. Please have fun reading! :D_**

Arya and Saphira spent the remainder of that day together. It made the elf giddy; as a child, she could never imagine such an honor being bestowed upon her, but here she was. It wasn't until Eragon returned that evening from his various errands that she felt any desire to leave, but as soon as Arya sensed his approach, her immediate reaction was to become shy and skittish.

She frowned. Shy and skittish was unlike her.

"Saphira!" Came his jubilant greetings. "Arya!"

With a short little bugle Saphira leapt to greet her rider, while Arya followed in a considerably calmer fashion, watching with undisguised wonder as the pair before her locked eyes for a fraction of a second and partook in an entire silent conversation. She felt oddly alone as she watched the pair though, their obvious love apparent to even the densest observer.

"I'm glad to see you, Arya." Eragon laughed, still merry over what he had just shared with Saphira. "Nasuada has just invited Saphira and I to dinner. Would you care to join us?"

Arya shook her head. "I shouldn't impose. A vassal must know his liegelord, after all. And I am neither."

Eragon looked at her curiously. His warm chestnut eyes, slanted like an elf's but soft like a human's, searched her face for a trace of… what? "You impose upon no one, Arya. I haven't the slightest inkling why you might think this way. If it were inappropriate for you to attend the meal, I wouldn't have invited you." He said matter-of-factly. "We share the same… oddities in our diets, so that is of no account either. Your presence will not cause any inconvenience to our hostess. I should think it would rather delight her!"

Here, the elf was rather inclined to agree, despite her inward cringe at her own vanity. Nasuada _did_ seem to enjoy her company.

"Very well Eragon." She acceded with a smirk. "I will accompany you and Saphira to dinner." Looking down at herself a bit self-consciously, Arya added with a sigh, "Although I must change into something a bit more presentable."

The rider across from her laughed; a full expression that seemed to loosen Arya's tension and pull upwards at the corners of her mouth. "Oh, Arya!" he crowed delightedly, "That was something I'll never quite get used to hearing you say!"

She tried to become angry with him, she really did. But she simply couldn't.

"I'm an anomaly Eragon; that I must admit." Arya fluted, wrinkling her pixie nose playfully. Then, turning gracefully on toe, she dashed off to change.

It wasn't a long trek at all from Arya's tent to Nasuada's pavilion, simply a crowded one. A dragon proved to be an excellent remedy for avoiding any and all humans however, as Arya discovered upon invitation to climb aboard. She had barely a few moments to shimmy up Saphira's foreleg, settle into the saddle, and place an arm around Eragon's waist when the dragon hurled herself skyward. Smothering a girlish yelp of surprise, Arya tightened her grip on Eragon and concentrated on the city below her, which dwindled alarmingly as Saphira shot higher.

"Look!" Eragon shouted at her, voice snatched by the wind. "Feinster seems much smaller from here, does it not? It is hard to imagine how difficult it was to capture."

_And most other cities will be harder still. _Arya thought to herself grimly, frowning slightly. _Our path from here winds up the steepest of slopes, and one hopes we haven't exhausted ourselves by the time we arrive at the top._

The only sound to be heard for a moment was the air whistling vehemently past their ears, as the conversation had faded with height gained. But as Saphira angled back down towards the keep, Arya spotted something that shocked her. There, just upon the barren land that encircled the city walls, a small battle was taking place between a few of the Varden and a pathetically small group of unknown aggressors. They numbered about one hundred, but such a sum hadn't a hope of even causing the Varden an annoyance. Yet they pressed at the watchmen they had engaged with undying ferocity.

"Eragon." Arya whispered hoarsely, staring at the scene below while tightening her grip on his waist with one arm and moving to grasp the hilt of her sword with another.

"I see it." His voice sounded uncertain; as if he couldn't quite grasp what he was seeing in its entirety. But then again, Arya couldn't either.

Folding her wings, Saphira began a steep dive, straight towards the disturbance. _"Let us seek to preclude any more bloodshed." _The dragon commented dryly. _"If we cannot, I am afraid the angry-small-group humans won't be able to tell us who sent them."_

Arya, in no uncertain terms, agreed. _"Blodhgarm!" _she called out mentally to the lead elf of Eragon's spellcasters, _"There is a disturbance taking place just outside the north wall. See to it that Nasuada is informed, and that a few elves are here to attend the Dragon Rider. I am with him, but we are moving into potential danger."_

The blue-furred elf was immediate and crisp in his response. _"Nasuada is already informed, and has ridden out with many troops to attend to the matter. Eragon has already contacted us."_

Faintly surprised at her saddlemate's alacrity, Arya once again focused on her surroundings. Saphira pulled out of her dive and alighted with a resounding boom upon a hilltop on the edges of the fray. But distanced as they were from the main action, all three of them, elf, dragon, and rider, could now determine the identity of the fighters.

"They're just…" choked Eragon, "villagers! Peasants! Not fighting men, but… farmers!"

And this was true. The men attacking the Varden were simply a ragged band of villagers armed with nothing more than farming tools. But, as Arya realized slowly through her astonishment, something was definitely wrong.

_"Listen to their minds, Little Ones." _Cautioned Saphira gently as the figures at her feet stood rooted in place, watching the mindless slaughter of the farrago of creatures in the dust before them with glazed eyes. _"They know not what they do. Dead thoughts. Inhibitions mean nothing to them now, only the urge to fight the Varden. Their numbers wane, but they do nothing but carry on."_

"Not only that," Arya added, "but they have wards." Her flawless features contorted a bit in a scowl of displeasure as she gestured universally to the scene before them. "I suspect a spellcaster is behind this. One capable of invading the unprotected minds of the innocent, and controlling what they find there. The only question is, where is the magician?"

She did not have time to answer her own riddle however, as a mob of the peasants began to advance upon them. Saphira snarled savagely in an attempt to ward them off, but, zombielike, they paid no heed. Eyes flickering between the farmers and Saphira, Eragon held his hand clasped hesitatingly to his sword hilt, unwilling to kill those who couldn't control their actions. Arya tensed, uncertain as well. This was something new, and it vexed her. How could one be innocent at the same instant that they were committing a crime?

A dead tree at the opposite base of the hill caught her eye, and in half a second flat, she had flung herself down the incline and snapped off a branch.

"Eragon, catch!" she shrilled, tossing her makeshift club to the tanned man above her. One moment more, and she had obtained another hunk of wood for herself. In neatly synchronized motions, Arya and Eragon then began to swing at the advancing men, catching them in the heads with the clubs so that they immediately crumpled to the ground, senseless. In all fairness, a few of their attackers they were forced to kill, with magic or otherwise, to spare themselves injury, but Arya was pleased with their methods. A few months ago, she would not have been so bold. But ten words echoed through her mind now with vociferous insistence. _He was a threat. Sloan was not. Isn't it obvious?_

How little Eragon knew what an impression those words had made on her! He had caused an elf to recognize her erroneous behavior regarding the value of life, and this was no mean feat. Before a young man (_Yes._ She determined. _He is most definitely a man._) had lectured her, Arya, on morality, she would have no doubt killed these attackers without pause. In truth, it would have been much less risky that way, but knowing Eragon had changed her. She was beginning to realize that elves had much more to learn from humans then was commonly believed. And that sometimes, it was far better to think with one's heart then ignore what one believed and use solely one's head.

As the last of their little knot of farmers fell before her, Arya huffed a breath, pushed some stray strands of ebony hair from her face, and shot a wolfish grin at Eragon and Saphira. "Well, so much for looking presentable."

The indigo dragon blinked, then laughed her barking laugh, and Eragon soon joined her. Arya bit her lip to refrain from joining in their mirth, but there was no concealing the bright flash of her teeth as she smiled.

**_Replying to FlexManSteel...  
My my, you do like to keep me on my toes, don't you! Well consider my toes kept on, because I've started triple-checking my making sense aspect of my writing. Luckily for me, I am a veritable machine gun for snappy comebacks! Saphira wouldn't want to hover above the tree because, not only would that disturb the bird, it would be much harder to see than if she landed in a neighboring tree, which is what she did._**

**_Replying to Valbrandr...  
_****_Everyone should leave reviews as long as yours! You had a lot of helpful tips in there, and I did my best to listen and obey. And I'm so glad you have such a high opinion of my fic, convention-deprived as it is. You made me smile! Please feel free to nitpick even more, because I tend to write sloppy! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!_**

**_Replying to Rheya...  
Was it awesome? I tried to incorporate more hand-to-hand for you, but I'm not sure I did enough... I just kind of wanted to focus on Arya's wonderful brain. Feel free to yell at me if you hated it._**

**_Replying to Travis Jameson...  
_****_Thanks for your fabulous review! I have been trying to soothe my shakespere-prone style and convoluted... everything, but tell me how I'm doing. I can always do better!_**

**_Replying to Inkweaverabc...  
_****_Well, no one can ever accuse you of being apathetic or tepid... at all. But I too am PUMPED! :D _**


	5. The Ultimate Sacrifice

**_Why, we meet again! *insert evil laugh here* For my inspirational life story, I'd like to let you all know that when swimming last night with my friends, we were hit on by an eight year old who thought he could impress us by speaking spanish, which, by the way, he could not. Then by this gross guy... a helpful tip for you guys trying to make it with the ladies at the public pool, if you start saying loudly what your body is doing at that very moment, females WILL start screaming "Oh no, my tampon fell out!". Just sayin'..._**

**_But I digress. This chapter is a bit of an experiment for me, because I'm starting to play with unusual sensory detail in an effort to make it uber-dramatic. (I think I overdid it, but I'd like to know what you think.) So... PUSH THE BLUE BUTTON AT THE BOTTOM OF THIS PAGE! I don't really care what you say, start a conversation about superior taco meat! Just review! *cough*you guys failed me last time in feedback, don't keep letting me down!*cough*_**

Six elves were the first on the scene of the now completed skirmish, loping easily across the uneven terrain to halt at the feet of Saphira. And if they considered a rider and elf wielding clubs laughing to burst their sides along with a dragon at all odd, they said nothing, but merely turned their angled faces to greet Nasuada who had just galloped up on a snorting, fresh Battlestorm.

"What has happened here?" the dark woman demanded, "The incident I see here is mad! For what reason would a simple farmhand attack a force so mighty as ours for?"

The Nighthawks (now having caught up with their charge) grunted in agreement. Not even the Urgals, who were notorious for their foolish conquests, could understand what had taken place in its entirety.

"Why don't you ask one?" Arya asked, and, with a feral expression twisting her cherubic features, yanked an unconscious man upright by his collar. "Wake up!" She slapped him, none too gently, across his bloodied face.

With a start, he came to, his pain and confusion clear. (And who was to blame him? It was not every day that one was awakened roughly to find himself being held in the air by an elf woman accompanied by a dragon, several other elves, two dwarves, two humans, two Urgals, and a black woman seated on a warhorse.) Then, the man's memory seemed to come rushing back to him, and he practically wilted as he recognized the danger he was in.

"Why you attack us?" an Urgal Nighthawk barked. "It was stupid thing to do, even for human!"

"I… I…" he stammered, eyes nearly bugging from his skull as he noted all of the very, very sharp weapons surrounding him. "I don't know."

An elf, Caesi as it happened, yawned, then drew his dagger and picked his teeth with exaggerated boredom. "Well, that is hardly a sufficient answer… whatever you're called."

"Sanming." The man squeaked softly, "I am Sanming Flinchson." Arya could feel his trembling.

Frowning heavily, Nasuada asked severely, "How can you not know the reason for your little groups' attack? Most men are very passionate about what they risk their lives for, and are not apt to forget! What makes you so different?"

"I said I didn't know why _I_ became aggressive, not the purpose for which the entire party did!" Sanming Flinchson wailed, squirming in Arya's iron grip. "All I know, is that I was plowing my new wheat field, bothering none but myself and…" he hesitated, as if he was unsure that they would believe him, but then drove on in desperation, "And something came over me. There was something _in my head_. Then I wasn't me any longer, but someone else. Making me do the most horrible things… and always, always thinking about _him_" Flinchson pointed accusingly at Eragon, "and the king. How the king might reward his family for… for the rider's death. And how, if only we might distract the rider for long enough before we were killed… he might… he might… get a chance to kill _him_!" By this time, terrified tears were rolling down the farmer's grubby face, and Arya threw him aside in disgust.

"Magician. I told you so."

_"An ambitious one, it seems." _Saphira agreed. "_But, as Arya pointed out before, if this is the work of a magician, where is he?"_

Those present felt a sensation clawing at their insides that could only be described as paranoia.

But Arya was not one to dwell on the future. "Search for survivors, and heal those that you can." She instructed her elves, gesturing around her. "Explain to them that they shouldn't fear us, for we know that their actions are venial, but also impress upon them the importance of finding this invader of minds." _The bastard._ She added silently to herself. _Invading these men's last true sanctuary._ And really, at times like these, she really couldn't help but to despise magic in general.

"Drottningu." The elves bowed as one, gesturing their respect and loyalty, and departed across the field, where a few Varden were milling about, utterly perplexed, among those killed.

"Foul play." Growled Eragon, clenching his fists until they were white, "I had always assumed Galbatorix was above nothing, but _defiling_ another's _mind_ like this… and it wasn't even him! A pet! A nobody!"

Everyone had something to say, and a hot conversation ensued, from which only Arya stood apart, her mind searching around her as much as she felt comfortable allowing it, considering an enemy magician was present. The best word to describe her attitude at the moment was vigilance. Aware of the atrocity, aware of the immorality, she carefully folded any emotions involved away in the locked chest of her heart to examine at a later date. For now, her sole purpose was to guard Eragon.

"_Blodhgarm._"

_"Princess?"_ came the reply.

Closing out the world for the briefest of moments, Arya focused on the blue elf's mind. "_I have a task for you and the remaining five."_ She told him. _"Come now, to the North gate. I want you to…"_ She hesitated. Eragon's life was by far more important than those of the villagers strewn on the battlefield, but if the magician were going to attack, would he not have done so by now? _And_, she reminded herself (vigilance) _every life is important._

_ "Blodhgarm, you must see to it that every enemy fighter still alive is saved. They were innocent. A sorcerer invaded their minds and forced them to end others' lives." _Through their mental link, Arya could feel the rage this ignited in the other elf, and she struggled ferociously to quell this same emotion in herself. Were this battle tactic to become common practice, she realized, every elf in Alagaesia would seek the immediate death of those responsible. There would be no hesitation. There would be no mercy. One did not violate just about every single one of the elves' core values lightly.

Saphira's mental voice from the ongoing debate on the hilltop distracted Arya from her musings. _"But how _can_ we warn those who might be victimized? No offence intended, night-skin, but very few are pleased with you at the moment, or the Varden. There is no remedy but to simply quell the tale of what has happened here, and pray no _other_ black hand chooses to imitate it."_

Arya's vibrant emerald eyes widened. She hadn't considered a repeat incident.

Upon attempting to rejoin the conversation however, the elf determined that it was running in circles; always returning to the same points again and again, and never covering any distance. So, she turned her attention to a small grouping of fallen fighters that had been skipped over by the other elves, and went to heal any left living. But as she approached, hilltop voices falling of deaf ears, Arya realized that, among the fallen, was one who didn't appear to be injured. His body lay limp and still, true, but there was no blood coming off of him, and his hygiene, while still poor, seemed to be marginally better than those of an average pauper. And as she watched, this man rose from the ground with impossible speed for one who had (supposedly) just been unconscious.

In those next few seconds, Arya registered only a series of images without sound. His mouth, lined with vile, gleaming teeth, contorted into something that could only accurately be described as triumph; sick, mindless triumph. His eyes, bloodshot, were wild and maniacal. They didn't waver from their focus, which was atop the hill Arya was settled by. And his hand, it was raised like a bony claw from his side, pointing with all of the authority of fate within it.

Pointing at Eragon.

Sound became a factor once more, and it assaulted Arya from every conceivable direction. Her own breathing, fast and erratic; her heartbeat, spluttering in time with her pace; the voices, their riled tones weaving the heedless conversation still dominating her companions' attention; the air, as it resisted Arya's body as she moved; and the enemy, his dread spell, quite innovative, beginning to take shape on his lips.

A wordless cry of absolute fury and defiance shattered the surreal atmosphere, and every head within range whipped around just in time to witness the awesome spectacle of Arya the egg-bearer throwing herself between the oncoming attacker and his target. Her midnight hair was gathered in the most ominous of thundercaps about her face, and her eyes held an ancient wrath only an elf could muster. With deadly speed and precision, Arya lunged forwards and ran her sword straight through the chest of the unsuspecting assassin, killing him very close to instantly.

But she was too late.

The spell had already begun, and the energy to complete it committed. But once the spell's means had ended, this energy had to go somewhere.

An explosion rocked the earth beneath bystanders' feet, sending the majority of them scattering like cockroaches. Arya felt herself lifted bodily off of her feet and into the air, which was frigid against her scorched skin.

"Arya!" came the broken cry. She was unable to determine its point of origin, but since it was accompanied by the passionate roar of an anguished dragon, Arya could only assume it came from the pinnacle of the hill, where only minutes ago she had stood laughing with Eragon, the one who had screamed her name. Very much wanting to call back, to assure the rider that she never, ever wanted to see him in pain again, especially not after what Durza had done to him, Arya was dismayed to find that she could not. And before she had the courage to ask herself why, her body smacked forcefully onto the hillside with a sickening crunch, and everything went black.

**_Replying to Daxxx...  
I'm glad you noticed! The whole point of this story is really to unlock the secrets of Arya's emotions, something CP has been holding out on us, so I hope you keep reviewing and telling me if I'm getting it right!_**

**_Replying to Katherine...  
You know what goes really good with leaving reviews? Me, rewarding you with cookies and banana bread! (Not really though, because even though I am a stalker, I do not know where you live.)_**

**_Replying to Inkweaverabc...  
I see you point on both counts (a was a typeo it was supposed to be the like you suggested). I'm glad you approved at my first tentative stab at EXA feelings. What did you think about her random I'm-injured-and-flying-through-the-air-desperate-to-answer-my-luvah's-cry moment? It was fun to write. :D_**

**_Replying to Korkman2...  
Yea... I know... but my natural breaking point always seems to be at about 2,000 words, and I don't really know how to change that... I'll tell you what. The first chapter I hit 3,000 words is dedicated to you. (Don't let me forget.) Keep on reviewing!_**

**_Replying to FlexManSteel...  
SimplySupreme = 1  
FlexManSteel = 0  
*gloats obnoxiously, but then feels bad so gives a rootbeer-flavored lollipop* _**

**_Replying to Skyboards...  
I wish this didn't sound mean, but PLEASE SPELL CHECK YOUR REVIEWS SO THAT I CAN UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE SAYING! I really do want to hear your opinion, but I only do two languages, Spanglish and White Kid Spanglish. I don't do Skyboardenese. (I'm sorry! That really did sound mean imsorryimsorryimsorry!)_**


	6. An Awakening

**_This one is honestly a bit of a filler, but I couldn't just leave you guys hanging like that! I had a dream about this chapter last night, so I got up and went straight for the computer baby! In record time, this chapter happened in 43 minutes! *rabid fans screaming and climbing all over each other to get the opportunity to throw their underclothes at me* (But don't really throw anything at me please, because after the tomato incident, I'm a bit sensitive to objects flying at my face.) Speaking of which..._**

**_SHAME ON YOU, READERS! I achieved 1,000 hits on this story yesterday... but I only got 3 reviews! Don't you love me? Anyone? Or even hate me? Because I'd like to know that too... *sobs desperately* Didn't I say that I didn't even care what you said in the review? As long as you left one? WHAT DO YOU PEOPLE HAVE AGAINST SUPERIOR TACO MEAT? Now, I want AT LEAST seven reviews for this chapter, if you please, and by chapter seven, I'd like to have an overall 50! (pretty please?) When I get muchos reviews, SimplySupreme is made muchos happy. And when SimplySupreme is muchos happy, not only does she make delicious bakery items for everyone, she tends to be kinder to her protagonists... (I feel mean, indirectly threatening poor little Arya, but I'M DESPERATE, GUYS!)_**

_Someone was touching her hair._ This was her first thought. But, as her scrambled mind began to collect itself again, Arya noted that the contact wasn't hostile. It was, if anything, rather tender.

Her eyes flew open, and immediately she regretted it, as a fantastic pain burst behind her eyes. With a groan, Arya squeezed her eyes tightly closed once more and curled herself into as small a ball as possible, tucking her head away beneath her arms, feeling simply dreadful.

"Look! She's awake!"

_"Hush Little One, for while she's awake, she's obviously in pain. Allow her a moment to gather herself."_

"Saphira, you know I didn't mean to…"

_"I know."_

Arya listened quietly. Pain… yes. She was most definitely in pain. But it wasn't _as_ painful as it _should_ be. A memory of an explosion drifted across her eyelids, and she shuddered inwardly, squeezing impossibly tighter into herself, feeling with relief that her skin was no longer burned and her ears no longer bleeding.

Her eyes grew damp. It had _hurt._

"Eragon…" she whispered, knowing it was indeed he who had spoken and stroked her hair. "What…"

Ever so gently, the man took her thin, pale hand and folded it within his larger, rougher ones. Either his hands were very warm, or hers were very, very cold. She suspected the latter. "Arya," Eragon said, his voice as soft as he could make it, "Do you recall what happened? Anything?"

The elf cracked her eyelids and, slower this time, eased them open. The rider stood above her, concern and compassion chasing each other across his features, and Saphira had one massive, azure eye pressed against the open window. She looked up at Eragon through her hair with the greenest of optical spheres. "I remember… this morning… with Saphira. She was sad." Arya was frowning in concentration, knowing what she said would be important to determining if she had lost memory, and nearly missed the look that the rider shot his dragon. Clearly, this was news to him. "And… you… you invited me to dinner. I didn't want to go, but… but…" she didn't finish this train of thought. "Then we… we were flying. We flew out and above Feinster and saw… farmers. Their minds weren't their own, and they attacked. I was thinking about… about what you had told me, so long ago… Then… then… all of you were talking and I… I remember sending Blodhgarm away to tend to the injured… and… a man stood up. He wasn't dead, Eragon! How could I have let that happen?" Her eyes brimmed with moisture and humiliation. "He wasn't dead and… He… was going to kill you… so I… I…" Arya found herself quite unable to finish this either, and feeling quite childlike, she scrubbed at her eyes furiously, ashamed that Eragon had to see her in this fragile state.

"Oh, Arya…" the man murmured, his wavy, honey-brown hair falling from behind his pointed ears as he bowed his head over their locked hands. _So much like an elf. _Arya thought. _But I suppose without any poor qualities that might entail._ "Why? Why did you do it?" he begged of her, eyes shining. "You haven't the slightest idea of what it took to spare you from the void! By all rights, you should be dead."

"So should you."

And there was really nothing more to say. Arya simply lay there, clutching at Eragon's hands as a lifeline to the world of the living as they simply watched one another, emerald meeting earthy brown; she, terribly weak from her injuries and he weak as well from healing them.

With a sudden noise of joy, Nasuada burst into what Arya now recognized as a small, private room of the healing center, upgraded from a massive tent to a massive building near the center of Feinster. "Arya! You're alive! I wasn't at all certain that you would live to tell the tale of you heroism." Came her upbeat comment as she moved to the elf's bedside. "But that wouldn't be fitting now, would it? A woman who can slay a shade a casualty of a mere assassin? Not Arya."

Said heroine smiled thinly, and rasped, "It will take more than a puny human to rid you of _me_ Nasuada."

The Varden's leader laughed. "I missed you too!" A shout from outside caught her attention, and she sighed. "Sadly, I must depart, though I am certainly thankful you regained consciousness coinciding with my stop, even though it certainly took you long enough! But if it is any comfort, I believe the other elves will be arriving shortly." Nasuada smiled wanly one last time, and then swept from the room, her skirts making a gentle, hushed noise as they brushed across the floor.

Arya turned an anxious face to Eragon, releasing his hands and attempting to push herself upright. "It _took me long enough_?" she repeated indignantly. "Eragon, for what expanse of time was I out?"

"I did the best I was capable of at the time, Arya, I swear!" the man pleaded with her, eyes willing her to understand, "You had one of the worst concussions that I've ever seen, and most of your other bones were badly broken. I left your side only to eat and sleep!"

The elf's icy stare halted his ramblings.

"Three days." Eragon admitted. "I could have healed you in a few hours at most… but I didn't think you'd approve of my using the energy in Aren, and I hadn't stored a sizable amount in my other sources at all. I needed to sleep, as did you."

An awkward silence permeated the tiny, plainly decorated room. Finally, Arya squeaked, "Thank you, Eragon, for saving my life."

The man's face melted into a kind smile. Arya liked that about him. Without fail, he always found something to smile about. "I should say the same to you, Arya Svit-kona." He told her.

"I suppose we Shadeslayers are bound to each other in more than blood. I've lost track of the times we've saved one another." This was ironic, as Arya had never favored acquiring such close bonds with another living creature, but knowing what she now shared with Eragon, the elf didn't know if she would want to trade it for her freedom, were the exchange offered. In all honesty, she wasn't quite sure of anything any longer. She had been sure of Faolin, but he was long dead.

Eragon gently pressed Arya back into her pillows with one hand, a strong indication for her to rest. "You gave me an honest fright there, Arya." He whispered as he handed her a small flask of water to drink, his eyes seeming suspiciously wet. "I was scared witless."

**_Replying to Travis Jameson...  
Dude, I so would! Unfortunately, I have no idea how to use thees and thous in a grammatically correct way... One day I'll find out... One day..._**

**_Replying to Katherine...  
Of course you did! Who doesn't like cookies and banana bread? Or Slavonic Dances No. 8? (Its a good song. A happy song of joy. It reminds me of me, dancing around the kitchen making Rachel Ray recipes while tossing confetti into the air in a highly whimsical manner.) As for Arya's feelings... hehehehehe... I feel like a demonic pet owner starving you, the dog, and then holding a big, beautiful filet mignon in front of your desperate face, but not letting you have it!_**

**_Replying to Ickweaverabc...  
Rock on! There SO needs to be double Caesi's! (Am I psychic or WHAT?) I'm gonna start naming the other elves, and it would be BEYOND stalker if they were the same/similar again! :P_**


	7. Discovering Something Beautiful

**_Hooray for you guys! Seven reviews! I'm so ecstatic, I think I just might prance around my bedroom, waving my cat around like she's a sombrero as I dance to salsa music! Only seven more, and our goal of 50 reviews will be reached! (PS. As an incentive, whoever leaves the 50th review will have chapter 8 dedicated to them!) There were two new reviewers this chapter, so a round of applause for them too!_**

**_I'm in a REALLY good mood this morning. I should make bacon..._**

**_Now... as for the chapter. It stars... elves! (My favorite!) Now, poor Arya is still recovering and is undoubtedly utterly loopy on pain medication, so forgive the unusually raw emotions I have going on here. (But if anyone actually HAS been on really strong pain meds, you'll know what I'm talking about.*winky face*) This chapter is rather short as well, but I didn't want to seem like I was overdoing it, because it is REALLY intense. I think everyone will enjoy it! Don't forget about our 50 review goal now, because all you have to do is hit the little blue button at the bottom of the page, and just smack you keyboard. Like this. "sjhagj;hasl;asys dfkjlsd fgdfs ;rha;p3984tyerhgdf;alsdk!"_**

**_Inkweaverabc... Check the names before you update! :D_**

It wasn't until Eragon had left her (after had he had seen to it that she'd eaten) that Arya truly realized how much he'd done, and how far he'd gone, to save her. Blodhgarm, Caesi, and the other elves filed solemnly into the room, and Eragon only stayed long enough help her to sit up against her pillows.

"You haven't the slightest inkling how thankful I am that you survived." An elf woman named Amela whispered once he had departed, leaning down to embrace Arya, a few tears beading her long eyelashes. Arya was a bit surprised at this deeply emotional response, as she had never really known Amela well in Ellesmira, but returned the gesture in kind nevertheless.

Belithas, an elf of unusually tall build, placed a hand on Arya's firm shoulder. "You did well, Arya Drottningu." He told her gruffly as she gazed up at him, surprised, through Amela's silvery hair. "Not one among us, I think, possesses the courage that served you so well to save the Rider Eragon."

"Thank you, Belithas, for your praise, but I…" Arya's voice was smothered as yet another elf joined the group hug. She was closely followed by two more. "Madelna, Enlan, Loncara, I'm experiencing some difficulty in breathing!" she gasped from beneath them, unsure of whether to be offended by this overly familiar contact or flattered.

Hastily, her kin extracted themselves from Arya's person, not in any way ashamed.

In answer to the emerald-eyed woman's questioning expression, Blodhgarm purred deliberately, his indigo features reflecting the mild confusion Arya had shown earlier, "You don't recall your healing, do you?"

Wondering whether this should concern her, Arya shook her head slowly.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't," the wolfish being muttered more to himself than to anyone surrounding him. "Very well, I shall relay to you what _I_ observed, Arya Drottningu."

Faces radiating barely contained light-heartedness, the twelve elves gathered in an orderly semicircle around the bedside, Blodhgarm stationing himself at its foot. "The first sign that anything was amiss was your cry." He began in a tone that suggested that these words were only the beginning of an expansive monologue. "But by the time you had uttered it, fate already had taken the moment into hand. The spellcaster impaled, he exploded like a dying star in the heavens. On the field, we hadn't a very clear visual on what had become of you, but we heard the other Shadeslayer's cry and feared the worst. When we finally did reach you, he already was working over you, but it seemed futile, as you lay unmoving and broken upon the reddened earth. We…" the elf slumped his shoulders in something akin to shame, "believed you lost, and did nothing. Panic was meanwhile ensuing, and humans ran everywhere like frightened children. It was Destidor who first took notice that now, you once more breathed." The elf in question nodded his head vigorously. "The breaths were shallow, and were choked with blood, but they were present. But then, Eragon took you up in his arms and… ran."

Arya raised her eyebrows.

"All the way into Feinster." Blodhgarm continued, a small smile now gracing his face as he looked at her. "And let it be said we had difficulty matching pace, despite his added burden! At first we were enraged that he dared take such a liberty with you, but Eragon had found that odd human woman, Angela."

Repressing a laugh, Arya noted that only Eragon would think to carry a dying elf to _Angela._

"She was a great help, you know." The canines in Blodhgarm's mouth flashed as he grinned, "Exceeding all preconceptions. The fourteen of us set to working at you for… how long I cannot even recall. A few of us had fainted before the Rider finally called a stop, and sent us away to rest." Approximately five of the elves blushed furiously, obviously those who had fainted. "How Eragon handled you then, I cannot say." Concluded the elf simply. "Periodically we would attend to him to lend our strength to his, and to beg of fate your full recovery. And until this point, you were kept in a deep slumber to avoid any unnecessary suffering."

A bit winded after hearing this, Arya sat back against the headboard and closed her eyes. "Three days?" she asked after a moment.

"Three days." Madelna confirmed.

"And…" Arya carried on tentatively, "I was… so damaged… even _you_ believed I wouldn't survive?"

Her response was breathy and eager. "But you _did_!"

Complacent, almost robotic, Arya nodded. "I am grateful," she fluted, her voice steadily losing power as she tired, "for all of your strength. As well as your loyalty, and friendship."

The elves all beamed, and many leaned forwards as if they might like to embrace Arya once more, just to prove to themselves that she was, well and truly, still among the living on the earth, but they restrained themselves. It surprised Arya, really, to witness this affection that they held for her. Never had she really treated them as more than cohorts, and they the same. And to be perfectly honest, she barely knew most of them, having spent the majority of her life among humans. _What does this make me?_ She wondered. _What right do I have to speak for the elves when I have spent only my childhood in their company?_ _The only "elf" that I am more "elven" than is Eragon, and he is by no means a _proper_ elf. And _now_ listen to me…_ She scoffed at herself. _Running about in circles in conversation just as the humans do. What right of loyalty can I claim over another elf? Birthright? That is hardly the elven way!_

"_You_? Grateful to _us_?" Destidor almost laughed, blissfully unaware of Arya's internal ramblings, "Why, assisting in your recovery was absolutely _infinitesimal_ compared to the debt we owe you for resisting the Shade Durza, as well as slaying the Shade Varoug! If anything, it is _we_ who should be thanking _you_, not the other way around. We have saved one life between us." The elf shrugged. "And you? Hundreds. Potentially thousands. Would any elf have been spared were Galbatorix to discover our cities? Does any shade show the slightest respect of another life? Of course not."

Arya was taken aback. Any decent being would have held out against questioning if it were at all possible. Any decent being would dispatch with a Shade given the opportunity. But the way Destidor had spoken those words; with such _respect_… she could almost believe him.

"We should depart." Came Loncara's whispered chide as a massive clap of thunder rattled the world outside. "Princess Arya could use her rest at the moment, and we have business to attend to."

Muttered agreements arose from the assembled elves, and, one by one, they each lined up to offer her their own, more personal, words of encouragement. And, one by one, they departed, until Arya was left quite alone in the chilly room, listening to the hollow rattle of water pounding against the walls. Countless of the tiny droplets of water formed streaming rivulets down her single window as rain plummeted from the heavens, mirroring exactly the tears rolling down Arya's perfect face. She stared at the ceiling through the ceaseless moisture, body convulsing (most painfully) with silent sobs, and forest green eyes tortured.

She hadn't known. How hadn't she realized? The other elves cared. They genuinely loved her. And especially (oh how especially) did Eragon. Three days. Three days he had toiled ceaselessly over her, Arya! Of all the people in Alagaesia, she was the one being lucky enough to be treasured by elves and riders alike. Love was all around her; all she really had to do was look for it, and it would be there, waiting for her with enduring patience. Nearly dying had made her realize this.

But, as she cried, Arya still had only one wish left unfulfilled. She wished for the first time ever that one day, she would be able to love _herself_ just as much as Eragon did.

**_Intense, right?_**

**_Replying to Korkman2...  
Yeah, I suppose I rather agree with you there. My punishment for writing too fast I guess! Have a cupcake as a reward for reviewing. It has delicious pink frosting._**

**_Replying to melandu95...  
Hey, c'est parfait! Au début, je croyais que vous étiez simplement se moquer de moi parce que je l'ai dit, j'ai parlé spanglish, et je me suis assis là et regardait mon ordinateur le plus longtemps, va, "Hey ... Ce n'est pas spanglish!" Évidemment, parce que je ne pouvais pas le lire. Je considérais me cogner la tête contre mon ordinateur portable à plusieurs reprises, mais ma mère me regardait comme si j'étais folle. Donc, mon ami utile le traducteur a sauvé la journée! * insérer héros chanson thème ici * Je suis heureux de vous lire ma fanfic, il me rend vraiment heureux, même si je ne peut actuellement pas lire ce que j'écris, parce que je ne parle pas du tout de la langue française. Je me sens super bien maintenant droit à puce car mes paroles sont en français! J'aime traducteurs ... Ils sont tellement amusant! _**

**_Replying to PeanutButterCup526...  
I just can't get over how awesome your pen name is..._**

**_Replying to Katherine...  
I'm sorry! *falls on knees and grovels in dirt* I wasn't being mean by calling you a dog! It was just a metaphor! I love metaphors! *cries* And dogs are awesome anywayyyyyyyyyyy!_**

**_Replying to FlexManSteel...  
Dangit. You're... *takes a deep breath* right. *pouts* I was trying so hard to have it make sense too!  
SimplySupreme = 1  
FlexManSteel = 1  
Tie...  
Drat._**

**_Replying to Inkweaverabc...  
_****_Loopy on pain meds, I tell you! (Lol I can get away with ANYTHING in these chapters! BEST idea I've EVER had!) Did you like my little emotional revelations that I put in there? I did. Even though they weren't very easy to write. And legit... check those names! I wanna know exactly HOW awesome my predicting skills are! :D_**


	8. Sick

_This chapter is dedicated to the person who left the 50th review... Katherine! (Who is, just so all of you people know, NOT a dog. She is, as far as I can tell, a human female. A nice human female. We like her.) Not only has she left MUCHOS reviews, she has a lot of cool things to say, so everyone go to... wherever she lives... I'm not sure... and give her an enormous hug and a huge bouquet of flowers! Or a cookie. She likes cookies and banana bread. Anyway... Ten thousand cheers for Katherine! :D_

**Aw, you guys... I just love you all so much! 53 reviews! That's three more than our goal! *cries with indescribable joy* I don't even know if giving you all delicious baked items is even a good enough reward! So... here's what I'm going to do. Every 50 reviews, I'm going to dedicate a chapter. (So, when we hit 100, the 100th reviewer will have a chapter dedicated to them. Same for 150, 200, and so on and so forth.) Sound good, my pretties? Excellent. You and your little dogs can continue on.**

**Now for my semi-humerous ramblings that may or may not be important so you'd better read it anyway!**

**Well... It's monday. *groans* And not only is it monday, it is the monday that I must return to school after Spring Break. It is the monday before the tuesday that I have to take a lovely, multiple-hour-long math test! It is the monday before the tuesday before the wednesday that I have to take the lovely AIMS Science Test, because I am an overachieving Freshman, and took Biology this year! (Trust me, I probably wouldn't have taken it if I had known extra testing was involved. Perhaps this is why they didn't warn me...) So, needless to say, I am now busy again, and my insanely fast updates will be slowing down a bit. This will probably make Rheya happy, lol!**

**_As for notes on this chapter..._**

**_I'm finally ending my amusing little streak of Arya being super hyped off of the unknown drugs Angela has no doubt been doping her with, this being the last one. I think the emotions I've been having her express are just a bit too extreme to become a normal occurrence, although they needed to get them out there so we know what we're dealing with. At the end, I'm finally resolving the little streak, so I hope y'all enjoyed it (excuse the Texan vernacular) because the emotions won't be running this high for a while. The plot needs to be driven forwards a bit now. I'm tired of writing in Feinster. R&R and eat a cookie! Or two... Three... Perhaps four... Oh, screw it! *grabs entire tray and devours in one gigantic gulp*_**

_"You've been crying, Little One."_ It was Saphira, landing on the marshy ground outside and peering with concern through Arya's rain-streaked window.

"_And if I have?"_ the elf answered petulantly in her mental voice, lacking the strength and inclination to speak aloud. She didn't look at the dragon.

Saphira blinked in surprise. Normally, no one would dare to speak to her so rudely. _"The scent of the no-pain-herbs grows thin on you, Arya." _She finally responded. _"I should summon Angela to attend to you."_

_ "No."_ snapped Arya, _"I have no desire to converse with her, or pollute my bloodstream with her brain-addling herbs. I don't wish to see _anyone_!"_ Childlike, she pulled her blankets up to her chin and rolled over so that she wouldn't be facing Saphira. _"Leave me alone."_

A deep, angry growl rattled Arya from head to foot, and, reluctantly, she looked back at the dragon. _"Nothing should excuse you from acting in this manner, pointed-ears." _She said sagely, sounding mildly offended. _"I don't understand why you, of all people, aren't rejoicing!"_

"Oh, Saphira, I don't know. I don't know!" the green eyed elf wailed aloud, sucking in a shallow breath as a sharp pang of agony stabbed at her accompanying the use of her lungs, forcing her into silence.

_"Little One…"_

_ "No one was supposed to care."_ Arya whimpered, again mentally. _"Caring merely complicates matters. This rule is broken left and right! Even _I_ have broken it! And it has been an undying relief to do so. To cease my resistance of my heart and take that fight to Galbatorix. But…" _she sniffled, _"The agony involved when one loved is lost… Is it worth it?"_

Saphira seemed utterly astonished, and unsure of what to say. She merely stared at Arya.

Arya, for one, gazed at the dragon with searching eyes, her expression one of desperation."I'm lost, Saphira." She choked from beneath her welling of tears. "I don't know what to do. I don't… I don't know what to do."

_"Arya… Dear Arya…" _Saphira rumbled, distressed, _"What can I say? Who and how you love is your decision, and your decision alone. It is not for me to dictate this. And yet…" _appearing slightly guilty, she mumbled, _"The Black King battles with hate as his ally. And hate is not well countered with apathy. Would it not be fitting to enlist love on our side?"_

_ "Yes."_ Came Arya's gentle, thoughtful murmur. _"Yes it would."_

A knock on her door startled her out of her reverie, and a boy gingerly crept into the room, a small, ornate hand mirror clutched in his hand. Arya recognized it as belonging to Nasuada. "The Queen Islanzadi." The boy stammered quietly, hurrying to her bedside and laying the mirror face up in her lap. The manner in which he looked at her was strange, and Arya knew from his thoughts that she looked much different in her sickened state than she had appeared just a few days ago, especially to the boy, who had only ever seen her from a distance. Thinner and physically exhausted, the difference was dramatic.

"Thank you. You are excused." Arya told him, and as he left, bowing, she turned her attention to the face in the mirror.

"Arya!" her mother exhaled in relief at the sight of her face, pulling herself closer to whatever she happened to be using to scry Arya. She ignored utterly the usual formalities of beginning a two or more person dialogue. "I was so afraid…"

"Hello mother." Arya responded with a weak smile. "Saphira sends her greetings as well."

The dragon snorted. _"I shall leave you now. Tell the little elf Queen that, perhaps some other time, I shall converse with her. But I am not one for idle chatter."_

With an enormous clatter, Saphira departed, and Arya dutifully relayed her words to Islanzadi, who merely chuckled and shook her head. "Dragons. They never change."

"I wouldn't know."

And, as occurred so often between them, a silence ensued. This was even more pronounced than was usual, for the pair hadn't truly conversed for quite a long while. It was not that Arya didn't care for her mother, and Islanzadi likewise, but they were so fundamentally different that it was often a struggle for them to find anything they could agree upon, or even come to an impasse about. Arya had been told that she was alike to her father in this way. No one could infuriate the Queen such as she.

And this had never rung more true. For an extended period of time, mother and daughter said nothing, each merely observing the other. "From what Nasuada tells me, you handled the situation quite professionally." Islanzadi commented, cutting directly to her point.

Arya nodded her acknowledgment of this statement.

The older elf chuckled dryly. "Well, you always _did_ know your duty, or what you thought it was. Personal safety means nothing to you now as it always has, or rather, hasn't."

"Speak not in riddles." Arya demanded tiredly. "For I am weary, and in no mood for hammering straight your convoluted statements."

The Queen's eyes flashed, but she refrained from lashing out at her child for her ill manners. As rude as she appeared to be, Arya was still recovering, and not yet returned to herself. "Fine." She acceded. "Then what is it you wish to discuss?"

Arya, sensing a rare opportunity, heaved a deep breath to steady herself, and then took the plunge. "I should like to hear your excuse for not informing me of the dragons' heart-of-hearts."

Eyes widening a fraction, lips parting in shock and complete disbelief, Islanzadi spluttered indignantly, "Wha… who… Where in all of Alagaesia did you hear of the Eldunari?"

Laughing a bitter laugh that ended in a violent, bloody coughing fit, Arya hissed, "Forget you that I share a friendship with a dragon? Not to mention her rider? You are many things mother, but not usually so great a fool. Did it ever occur to you that if a select few Varden were made aware of them that this war would already be over? Complete? Finished, once and for all?" The Queen was mute. "Humans' lives are not so unremarkable that they can simply be thrown away, mother, and not all of them are as corrupt as you believe them to be. They are just as much of victims of Galbatorix's madness as we and the dragons are. Never should you have forgotten that."

"Did _Eragon_ help you realize this?" Sneered the Queen, her face mocking.

"Does it _matter_?" Arya asked, frowning slightly.

Islanzadi tilted her head to one side philosophically. "Perhaps…" came her cryptic response. "I just suppose I might warn you." Arching an upswept eyebrow quizzically, the younger woman shot her mother a glance that implied skepticism, but also a willingness to accept the wisdom offered to her by one of greater years. "This is a period of war." The Queen continued, "Many will not survive the slaughter that is sure to come. Considering that a sizable amount of people have already passed into the void, I would caution you. Guard well your heart, my daughter, for no purpose can you serve if it is broken. Already have you learned this lesson, and yet I still find myself bound to repeat it to you."

Recoiling as if she had just been slapped, Arya squeezed her eyes closed as, unbidden, memories of that fateful night of Faolin's death danced mockingly across her field of vision; as well as those long and torturous hours when she had been taunted by the Shade with this fact. Someone she had loved had been killed. But she, Arya, had been left alive to suffer the consequences.

"If you have nothing more to say," she said blackly to the mirror after a moment of intense quiet, "then I must request you depart. I have duties I am obligated to attend to, as do you."

Face conveying grim satisfaction, Islanzadi dissolved as requested, leaving Arya alone, with only a mirror for company.

_I am sick of this._ She thought to herself angrily. _Sick of everything. I am sick of continually being manipulated into thinking, believing, or wanting just as another does. I am sick of feeling guilt for an incident I am not to blame for. I am sick of being in pain, as well as causing others pain. I am sick of knowing that I am helpless against some powers, and sick of being physically weak. I am sick of playing the fool. Sick. Utterly sick. _She didn't really know how she felt about _anything_ other than this, and didn't honestly care, because she would learn to experience _her _emotions at _her_ pace. And that was final.

Arya glanced at the hand mirror still lying innocently in her lap with disgust, and seriously contemplated throwing it with every ounce of strength remaining to her against the opposite wall. But this did not strike her as a particularly wise decision. As long as it was here, she supposed she would do well to put it to some use. Under no circumstances would she attempt to scry her mother again until she had returned fully to herself, her head cleared. But there _was_ someone that she _could_.

Gathering what strength she could muster, Arya whispered the spell, and after a few moments, the interior of Nasuada's pavilion became visible on the surface of the mirror.

"Arya!" Nasuada rose from her chair in surprise, as did King Orrin, who was also present.

"I don't wish to allow injury to hinder my abilities to perform my duties as ambassador, Nasuada." Stated the elf simply. "My input may still prove valuable to you, even if I must deliver it via scrying."

Satisfied with this explanation, if not a little concerned, Nasuada once again resumed her seat. "Very well." She conceded, and then gave a little ivory smile. "Determined as ever to be of use, I see. Nothing halts you."

Arya's mouth twitched, as if it would have liked to smile in return. She was back.

**_Replying to Korkman2...  
I'm just a stalker like that. *winky face*_**

**_Replying to Yellow Mouse...  
Do it!_**

**_Replying to FlexManSteel...  
BOOHYA I'M WINNING! XD *laughs maniacally*_**

**_Replying to nikki8...  
All 7? Rock on girl! You deserve a pastry! Here... It's got strawberry filling. :)_**

**_Replying to Rheya...  
I had wondered where you'd run off to! Don't worry though, now I don't have as much free time and you can catch up to me! (As for slowly easing into EXA, don't worry, I plan to. I hate it when it is too much too fast.)_**

**_Replying to Katherine...  
Don't worry, I'm sure your flowers and sugary treats will be arriving soon! I hope you love them! (And I'll be seriously considering your idea. It's a good one.)_**

**_Replying to Oracle for Madness...  
There is nothing better than a bad pun. Just wait for a really crappy day and then google it! Guaranteed chuckle of exasperation! My mom says that if I keep telling everyone that I'm SimplySupreme, and not just *insert my real name here*, it will make it sound like I'm stuck up and big-headed. I'm a trumpet player though, so it goes without saying that I am!_**

**_Replying to melandu95...  
Deal. Even though it's more fun to use the translator, I suppose practice makes perfect, right? :)_**

**_Replying to Inkweaverabc...  
Don't worry, you'll get another chance at dedication. And you're (as far as I can recall off the top of my head) the only one in the running thus far of reviewed-every-chapter-award, so carry on! *brass fanfare*_**

See the blue button everyone? Push it. I dare you.


	9. Farewell to Feinster

_**Aw... guys I missed you! So sorry this took FOREVER but not only am I back in school, this chapter is just destined to be super-awkward (at least for ME) because it is kind of a transition between the first part of my story and the next... which is BELATONA! I tried to include a few juicy nuggets of awesome in there for y'all though, so just pay attention to those and ignore what I had a hard time getting out. Or if you can't tell where I struggled a bit, ignore everything I just said!**_

_**The 100th review is getting closer... just remember about the reward offered to the 100th reviewer!**_

**_I'm about to do something shameful... advertising another story..._**

**_If you don't already know, I have started ANOTHER Inheritance Cycle fic, and I would REALLY love it if you guys puttered along and checked it out! It's called Poetry of Alagaesia. (Did I spell that right? It's correct in the actual title I promise!) It's kind of like all of my awesome concentrated into shorter chapters, just for you! If you leave me a review there (or here, because I LOVE reviews) I'll give you a slice of my famous chocolate cake with the cherry and marzipan filling! It is UBER tasty!_**

**_And if anyone has read the Hunger Games, please join me in an extremely loud fangirl/boy scream... BECAUSE THEY ARE MAKING IT INTO A MOVIE! *ssscccrrreeeaaammmmmm*_**

It didn't take Arya very long to once again regain her footing in the world, despite her pain-riled emotions. And in a few short days, she appeared to have returned to exactly her old self. Saphira knew better of course, as did Arya herself, but neither female brought the subject to conversation between them, or other people. Within, the elf was still badly shaken. Not from the encounter with the hostile magician, but from the encounter with herself. So long had Arya schooled herself against narcissism that confronting what _she_ felt about matters concerning _her_ (not of the trivial, everyday type but of deep, ethical breed) was a bit of an out of body, oddly foreign experience. Discovering that what she told herself to believe was much different than what was actually true was an experience as disconcerting as leaving her home for the very first time. But discomfort aside, she was entirely aware of the one thing that _did_ seem to make sense, which was the fact that Galbatorix must die.

_And so_, Arya vowed atop of many other previous promises she had made to herself regarding that subject, _he would_.

Hence her presence in Nasuada's Pavilion.

"As you can see, we simply _must_ march on to Belatona as swiftly as we are able." The Varden's leader was iterating professionally to her highest-ranking officials. "An opportunity for Galbatorix to marshal his army once more cannot be permitted. As a fighting force, we must seek to strike once more, before they can."

Mutters of approval rolled like waves across the tent as Nasuada's battle plans were studied appreciatively. Arya, with steady gaze, strode pantherlike to the woman's side.

"If I may, I should like to express a few suggestions." She chimed fluidly, her melodious voice swelling across the small space despite its low volume. Nasuada nodded graciously, and Arya continued, "Seeing as it was left solely to the Varden to handle both Belatona and Dras-Leona, I should like to propose that a small group of elven soldiers and spellcasters be dispatched from Gil'ead to offer their assistance. Islanzadi should have no immediate need of them, and they would prove to be a great asset in our endeavors."

Eyes were blinked and throats were cleared in response to this rather radical plan. Radical, because elves and humans so rarely intermingled with one another, and Uru'bean stood solidly in between the elves and Feinster.

Nasuada, quick to size up the situation, asked sharply, "And has your mother approved of this plan?"

"A few moments discussion with her and she soon will. A loss on our part wouldn't make her job any easier."

"I see." The woman acceded thoughtfully, "And how do you suppose any group of elves larger than twenty will make it past Uru'bean without attracting unwelcome attention?"

Smiling slightly, Arya turned away from the others and muttered under her breath the spells that she had used not so long ago to disguise herself when she had ventured out to seek Eragon. In theory, simply describing this method would have sufficed to convince those in the tent to bend to her wishes, but Arya wanted to ensure that the Varden's leaders knew exactly what they were dealing with in the elves, and exactly how much they truly needed their assistance. When she turned back around and faced the pavilion's interior, she appeared to be a human: an exceptionally beautiful human, but a human nonetheless. Eyes rounded and level and ears stunted with the loss of their points, Arya's face had lost its overly angled quality, and her onlookers (aside from Nasuada, who had witnessed this once before) gasped in wonder.

"It is nothing to appear as a renegade band of refugees if one wishes to." Arya spoke cheekily, "Refugees fleeing the terrible, evil elves who arrived from within the depths of the endless forest, slashing and burning with prowess unholy and inhuman. We are merely seeking the safety of Dras Leona, or even Belatona, where our families reside, and the elves have little presence. Bypassing Uru'baen only because of our desire to place as much distance between the elves and ourselves as possible."

The men and women in the tent laughed at this, but their eyes were lit with ferocity, because they knew Arya's plan would work flawlessly alongside their own, and witnessing the elf's astonishing powers frankly awed them. Pleased with herself, the elf arranged her face back into its original shape. This was one of the aspects she enjoyed most about being an elven ambassador to humans. They were replaced quickly, and the amusement of impressing them with her abilities could be repeated with each incoming generation. Yes, Arya certainly did dearly love her occupation.

"Very well then, I think we all concur that the wise ambassador has a point, and we would do well to adopt her suggestion." Nasuada stated plainly and informally as she was again met by noises of approval. "But…" she added cleverly, wary of Arya's incredible political clout, "It will fall to her to ensure that no grievous misunderstandings occur between the elves and the humans. Only a collaborative effort will make the effort of the elven division worthwhile, and mutual respect and appreciation will only heighten this effect."

The elf woman nodded. "Very well." She would have taken this task upon herself whether it had been demanded of her or not, but she could appreciate Nasuada's requiring insurance of the fact, as well as her intelligence. "I shall contact the Queen momentarily, but from what I know of both Varden and elves, I would estimate our point of interception to be approximately two-thirds of the distance from here to Belatona." She commented sagely. "Simply as a reference point for any future discussion."

"I offer my gratitude. You are excused." Nasuada chirped, acknowledging Arya's words with a motion to the secretary to record them, and a fleeting smile in the elf's general direction.

With a slight bow, Arya ducked from the tent.

She passed through the ever-present Nighthawks with a solemn dip of her head, wrinkling her nose involuntarily as she passed the pungent Urgal. She supposed that it would soon be necessary to keep to her word and scry Islanzadi, but she hadn't the motivation to do so immediately. _A delay of an hour or two will harm no one._ She rationalized as her quick, even strides carried her towards the training area. A short bout of practice would do her good. Of what use would she prove if she were unable to defend herself against an attacker?

Halting just beyond the archery range, Arya slipped the elegant elven bow she had been carrying from its tube and fitted the notch of an arrow to the string with deftness echoing decades of practice. She drew it with smooth ease, sighting down the shaft of the arrow. A soft twang sounded satisfyingly in her ear as she released the tension in the instrument, sending the deadly missile whizzing ferociously over the heads of the surprised human archers and landing it solidly in the target. Arya eyed this accomplishment with satisfaction.

"Impressive. Though, I was never a proper bowman. It was always Eragon who was the hunter." Came a grunt from beside her.

Whirling to face the speaker, Arya realized who had commented on her archery. "Greetings, Roran Stronghammer." She fluted, touching her fingers to her full lips in salutation. "I wasn't aware that you would be present here today. In fact, I was under the assumption you were still partaking in the reconstruction efforts."

"An understandable mistake." Roran huffed, his full physique glowing with sweat and sword dangling loosely from his hand, "But I was given the day to my own devices, and I decided to work to improve my skills with the blade."

"I see." The conversation came to an awkward pause then, as the burly man eyed her coldly, and Arya him curiously. It was difficult for her to imagine the same childhood environment producing two people so different from one another as Roran and Eragon, but clearly, it had. And the relationship the cousins shared was remarkable. Arya prided herself on being one of the few beings that knew Eragon extremely well, but in comparison to Roran, the boy didn't even understand _himself_, much less Arya. All this she had gleaned from only a couple observations of the pair interacting.

And yet she still hadn't discerned the motive for his sudden icy attitude towards her. At the moment, he appeared to be attempting to find the best way in which to glare at her without seeming rude.

Opening her mouth to inquire if anything was troubling him, Arya was abruptly cut off by the shrill voice of a crier who was strutting across the practice fields with defined swagger of self-importance, his distinctive bright red vest marking him clearly as a vessel of Nasuada. "Attention! Members of the Varden! A message from Nasuada!" He spewed, "Companies will immediately prepare to depart and report to the arithmeticians for corps assignments! We shall be departing for Belatona in two days!" Appearing satisfied with himself, the crier moved to a fresh section of the field and began his speech once more.

Those present stared after him for a moment, and then continued about their business rather more quickly than before. A few simply abandoned their tasks and trotted back towards the residential tents to, Arya assumed, pack their few belongings. After a moment, the elf turned to Roran, who had grown very still, and said softly, "I should attend to my fellows. And you, I assume to your wife."

"Yes…" he hesitated, obviously uncomfortable, "though I regret our conversation was so brief."

Arya's mouth twitched with a smile as she answered him politely, "I assure you the opportunity will present itself once more. The both of us frequently are accompanied by your cousin, after all."

Tipping their heads in farewell, both Roran and Arya set off in differing directions.

_He's a strange one, that man._ Arya thought to herself passively as she sought a fairly quiet location to scry her mother. _So odd, for a human: but more like Eragon than he realizes, I think. Albeit more wary of others than he. _She shook her head wryly. _But I'm unsure of whether this is good or bad._

Meanwhile, around her, Feinster was buzzing with increased activity as word of the Varden's imminent departure spread like sickness. Truthfully, the elf was quite glad to finally be moving onwards in their conquest of the Empire. And perhaps, it would soon all be over. But she doubted that victory would be that simple.

**If you didn't pick up on this, Roran is mad because she rejected Eragon and Roran loves his cousin. I was going to elaborate in a later chapter, but I thought you might want to know now! :)**

**_Replying to FlexManSteel...  
Aw... Depressed. But I can't wait for the stuff you're going to pick apart in THIS chapter! *braces for impact* Haha be gentle!_**

**_Replying to Blackhawk1997...  
What? Are you sure that was supposed to make sense? What does this fic have to do with 30 Seconds to Mars? Not that they aren't cool but still..._**

**_Replying to Katherine...  
Glad you loved it! (Have your gifts arrived yet?) 8D_**

**_Replying to Oracle...  
She's a rebel... LIKE ME! (Ok, that's a bit of a lie caz I'm a goody2shoes but in my HEAD I'm rebellious!)_**

**_Replying to Inkweaverabc...  
Yeah... I know what you mean about the IC thing, but I think those feelings really needed to be acknowledged, even if they weren't really expressed outwardly. Now that the air has been cleared of that, I feel like I can continue toying with her feelings about Eragon! *winkwinknudgenudge*_**

**_Replying to Peanutbuttercup526...  
Indeed I did. Heehee..._**

**_Replying to Sarcasm. Is. Me. 17...  
Haha what am I? I asked my lil bro and he says to confess to you that I'M A FREAK! (Possibly a V... you never know!) Rotgl! But now spring break's over I'm a semi-normal human being again, so don't fret!_**

**_Replying to Restrained. Freedom...  
Don't we all? *wink* But Arya is hard to do, and I like the challenge. Poetry is SUPER easy. _**


	10. Capturing Memories

**_You have no idea how much fun I had writing this chapter!_**

**_Probably because I've been abstaining from writing scenes that include both Arya and Eragon at the same time because whenever I do, I always get these PMs that are all like "MAKE EXA HAPPEN ALREADY!" But I WILL NOT until lil Arya is ready! *stern expression* She is an IC character, and CP's Arya has a few issues that rather inhibit developing relationships, so like it or not, EXA happens when ARYA is ready! Patience is a virtue my children!_**

**_Now that I've vented a little bit... :)_**

**_I've decided to rip my hair out repeatedly over all of the downright odd issues that are happening with the login right now (or if they're fixed, a day or two ago). Most of the time I couldn't get on to check if any of my lovely readers had left a review, and this made me sad. Do you think I'd work the bald head? :(  
_**

**_AND I would like to set another goal, and since you guys did so fantastic last time, I KNOW you can impress me again!  
_****_I think we should aim for... 92 reviews! (A fabulous number, and so very close to 100!)_**

**_But if the login bug persists I will of course extend the time period for this, because I want NO ONE to feel any unnecessary pressure to review as they read. *winks*_**

**_Hopefully you guys love this lil intro to more time with Eragon as much as I do! Please review, and remember... 92! :)_**

Four days had passed since the Varden had departed from Feinster, leaving a small amount of fighters remaining in control of the city to prevent any rebellion from citizens still loyal to Galbatorix. To Arya, those days had seemed a bit of a blur of activity; insignificant figments of memory to be crammed inside her head, which held so many such figments as it was. But at least they were now moving, as were the elven reinforcements that she had requested of her Queen.

So traveled Arya's train of thought as she emerged, blinking sleepily, from her tent just in time to observe the sun rise over the unfamiliar terrain of the land between Feinster and Belatona. She would bear witness to many new sights in the coming days and months, for she had not traveled within the empire with much frequency at all, merely skirting around its borders. Even Eragon had seen more of it than she, and he had been alive for a much shorter time period. _And not suffered nearly so much. Immortality is new to him, and he has yet to watch his human friends age and die while he remains untouched by time._

Shaking herself of this rather morbid thought, Arya flitted around for Blodhgarm with her mind and, having found the elf, began to head towards his general vicinity. She decidedly preferred the company of other elves to any humans' at the moment.

Initially, she was irked to find them simply skulking about Eragon and Saphira (giving them as much privacy as possible without shirking their duties), for this meant that she would be forced by the rules of etiquette to converse with him, but she then recalled that Eragon _wasn't _human. Not entirely. And that he generally provided interesting fodder for discussion. But most unusually for him, the man didn't seem to be paying any attention at all to the world around him, and neither noticed nor hailed her as she approached. Instead, he was staring intensely at a slim grey palette that he held in his hands with (Arya had to admit) a rather adorable expression of concentration on his face that drew his arched eyebrows together and crinkled his straight nose.

Striding past the other elves towards her friend, she stood awkwardly for a moment a few paces away from the rider and his dragon, unsure of whether or not to approach the pair. But Saphira, ever vigilant, resolved this quandary and rumbled, deep in her chest, her greetings. Eragon's head jerked up with elven speed as he was startled out of his reverie, but he smiled warmly at the elf woman that he observed standing there.

"May I join you?" she asked of him uncertainly, suddenly feeling as if she had interrupted something both private and important.

Patting the ground beside where he sat, cross-legged, he answered, "Of course. It would be an honor, Shadeslayer Arya."

Tentatively, she settled herself down on the dusty earth where he had indicated, noticing with quick eyes the small piles of similar grey slabs stacked neatly by a lounging Saphira's side. "Fairths." She noted softly as she recognized their unique shape and texture, surprised. "You are creating fairths."

"Indeed I am." Said the rider passively. "I decided that there would be no better time to preserve the memories of when I was younger than now, while I still cling to my youth and they are fresh in my head. It would be a tragedy to me should I forget them."

Arya nodded thoughtfully. This made sense to her. "May I see one?" she queried, unable to keep her curiosity from permeating her voice, her emerald eyes bright and sparkling.

Eragon laughed, tossing his caramel head back as he chortled, "As long as you promise not to smash them! I worked rather hard on them you know!"

"Eragon!" Arya protested as she felt her pale cheeks and the tips of her ears redden spectacularly as the man referenced the rather embarrassing memory of one of the few times, if not the solitary incident, that she had completely lost her temper in front of him. She was shocked (and a bit ashamed) that he would bring the subject up at all.

Both him and Saphira chuckling at Arya's obvious discomfort, Eragon placed the fairth into her lap. Arya gazed at it curiously, embarrassment momentarily forgotten. It depicted a pair of people unfamiliar to Arya. They were human and middle-aged, sitting together at a simple wooden table inside of a tiny house, their faces illuminated by soft candlelight. Laughing and holding hands, it was clear to her that they loved each other dearly, and that they were unaware of their observer. "Who are they?" Arya breathed, soaking in every detail of the image with appreciation. Eragon had done a marvelous job.

"My Uncle Garrow and Aunt Marian." He replied, also looking at the fairth. But his expression was tinged with sadness. "She died not two years after what you see there, and he when the Ra'zac arrived in search of Saphira's egg."

"I'm sorry." Arya said humbly, handing the picture back to him gingerly. Seeing his family captured in the still image... somehow made the man more real to her.

Eragon shrugged. "There was nothing to be done to prevent it." His words were designed to sound strong, but his voice quavered ever so slightly. Seeming uncomfortable as silence ensued, the rider cleared his throat and said quickly, "Here. These two might interest you." He pulled from his pile two of the slates and gave them to her, and the elf studied them eagerly. The first was a scene within an unfamiliar forest. It would have been quite a beautiful place were it not burning and smoldering, nearby plant life being charred and withered. But within the blight of the black was an unquestionably gorgeous object that Arya immediately recognized. Saphira's egg.

In answer to her questioning look, Eragon emphasized, "The scene of where Saphira's egg first appeared to me."

Turning back to the second fairth in an effort to preclude any thought of where _she_ had been in the moments after she had sent away the egg, Arya examined it closely. In this fairth too, Saphira starred, but she was extremely tiny, as if she had only just hatched. The blue infant dragon was perched gracefully atop of a bedpost, and was obviously transfixed by the scene framed by the tiny window of the small room, which was a brilliant sunrise. But as brilliant as that sunrise was, it was clear that Eragon, the creator of the fairth, found the sight of the young dragon in its raptures of learning far more beautiful. And so she was.

"Remarkable." Arya breathed, running her sensitive fingertips over the surface of the image with something approaching reverence.

Eragon did not bother to disguise his pleasure at this exclamation, and lost no time in allowing the elf woman to appreciate his other memories. There was a picturesque view of the village Carvahall as seen from the top of a nearby cliff housing a magnificent waterfall. Another was the image of Brom sitting sagely atop of a log. This fairth was different then the others, and upon asking, Arya discovered that this was Saphira's memory, not Eragon's. But it was important to him because in this memory, Brom was addressing Eragon as his son, and not a mere companion. (She pitied the rider in this respect; he had never been able to know the man as his father, and those few vague memories Arya retained of _her_ father were among the most highly valued by her.)

Also present were fairths of Oromis and Glaedr, both separately and together, as well as of Roran and Katrina on their wedding day, a very young Roran helping his mother tend to a small flower garden, and (she approached this one with apprehension) one that included Arya herself. In the fairth, which was clearly a scene from the forest of Du Weldenvarden, there were other elves as well, whom she recognized as Lifean and Nari. They appeared physically mortified, but Arya was unlike them in that she appeared to be doubled over in laughter, her pristine features eased of worried lines, as mirth possessed her. In the sky, the elf could just make out the outline of Saphira through the streaming sunlight; her talons tangled in what could only be a multitude of travelling packs.

Arya smiled slightly as she remembered the reason for her laughter. Saphira had offered to carry their packs to ease their burden. Lifean and Nari had vehemently refused to allow any such thing, so the dragon had simply caught the packs up in her claws and taken off, calling back "_Catch me if you can!"_ Arya had found this to be quite amusing.

"That was the first time I had ever heard you laugh." Eragon commented, causing the elf to jump in surprise as his voice shattered her musings.

But once she had processed his words, she really couldn't quite think of what to say in response to them. So she merely handed the fairth back to him without saying anything at all, her skin briefly brushing his as she did so. Again, she noted how warm he seemed, but did not comment beyond a heartfelt, "Thank you, for sharing what you have created with me."

"And thank _you_ for enduring the tedium!" Eragon joked with her.

Arya tilted her head to one side and considered him with an unfathomable expression lingering on her porcelain features, intrigued. "You are an interesting person, Eragon." She told him, slanted eyes processing his entire face and committing it to memory, "The more answers to the questions concerning you I discover, the more curiosities are unearthed. No one in all of Alagaesia is quite like you, and I'm grateful I am acquainted with the one."

"I'm glad that I have the privilege to know you too, Arya." Eragon murmured seriously, his light brown hair blown across his warm eyes as a sudden, gentle breeze kissed his face.

Smiling at him, Arya received a smile in return. The two of them then settled into a companionable quiet, each leaning into the other's shoulder while Saphira hummed softly in the background. The morning air was fresh and cool and the sun shone merrily upon their heads as the sound of their musical voices rose into the morning, occasionally beaded with bright bursts of tinkling laughter or a dragon-noise of Saphira's. For the first time in months, Arya felt entirely and perfectly content.

**Who loves me for this amazing Eragon moment?**

_But before I make my hilarious replies to my awesome readers, there are a few people who I would really like to thank for their support and general awesomeness.  
1) Dancing Trees  
2) DarknessBecomesMe  
3) PeanutButterCup526  
4) Sarcasm. Is. Me. 17  
5) Yellow Mouse  
6) (Hasn't named me as a favorite author but has stuck with me since I first started, and deserves to be on this list with the others) Inkweaverabc  
I love you guys, as well as those who added me to their author alert lists but that I ran out of room to name (next chapter, I promise)! Thank you, times one million! Vanilla-chip cookies for all!_

_**Replying to Korkman2...  
Well, I AM fond of gore and violence, but this story is about Arya, who is an elf. Generally, they are pacifists, unless enraged. But never fear, a whole TROOP of enraged elves will be attacking Belatona soon! :)**_

_**Replying to FlexManSteel...  
As you've probably noticed, Roran isn't the brightest bulb. He's got the brawns in the family, and just enough brains to make that brawn effective. He's not super-concerned about who's friends with who, because he knows that Eragon's in pain, and his first instinct is to defend him. (Yes. Snap. I still gots this!) Cake?**_

_**Replying to nikki8...  
Happy? (I am!) Yell at me if I chicken out again, ok?**_

_**Replying to Pie In The Face...  
Ohmygawd... I can't decide if that was mind-numbing or overstimulating... If you'll excuse me for a moment... *Takes out ruler and makes a series of perfect squares to calm OCD tendancies* I'm good... Now I can LOL and ROTGL! *laughsnortlaugh* That SO made my day! You deserve a pie... in da face! (REALLY bad pun)  
Btw... did you know that my actual real-life nickname is Pie Girl? It started out as Cutie-Pie because I was an f-ing adorable child, but then just became Pie Girl and then Pie. Everyone in my family calls me that except my uncle who calls me 3.14... but he's a chemist and a bit of a nerd, and 3.14 is WAY better than what he calls his son, which is Mole. (The gross lump on you skin kind of mole.) Lol my life is so weird... **_

**_Replying to DarknessBecomesMe...  
I'm not really familiar with the guy they cast as Gale, but the one for Peeta I think will do really well. I like him mucho, and even grudgingly admit that they made a logical choice in their Katniss pick. And yes, you do get cake. Double cake in fact seeing as you left two reviews... HEREYAGO! :) _**

_**Replying to Inkweaverabc...  
She CAN come on a bit strong, but I think that's why we love Pie so very, very much! Heehee! As for Arya's immaturity, I have got to have SOME fun now, don't I? And I agree, that sentence was weird. In short, it means Roran knows Eragon better than both of them, and that Arya is a comparative whimp. Thanks for reviewing!**_

_**Replying to Katherine...  
Good, I was worried that something had happened to Phillip the Dream Mailman!**_

_**Replying to Sarcasm. Is. Me. 17...  
OhmyjezzusIcompletelyspaced! You are SO right Nasuada WOULDN'T do that! *runs around bedroom in distress* And just when I thought I was in the clear, I messed up! Grrrrrr... And no, I don't even know if Nasuada knows in the real book or not. Drat. I just thought "Islanzadi = Arya's mom hooray!" *bangs head against desk in self directed anger***_

Push this button right here... It's shiny!


	11. Speaking Without Words

_This chapter is dedicated to nikki8, the 100th reviewer! A faithful reader and overall great source of constructive criticism and encouragement, nikki8 has achieved the highly pursued title of MASTER OF AWESOME! Chapter 11 is for you nikki8, as well as a massive bunch of perfectly ripened bananas, because I'm craving them right now! :)_

**_Some days, I'm just not sure what I've done to deserve readers as awesome as you guys. Not only did we meet our puny goal of 92 reviews (phsa), we made it all the way to 101! *passes out from overdose of happiness, but not before pushing the update button* Honestly, I almost cried. I think my mom might just ban me from my computer if I keep doing weird things like that. But now everyone has to wait until review 150 for their chance at dedication! *winks*_**

**_This chapter is LONG! Over 3,000 words for the first time! *giggles*  
_**_I seem to recall promising Korkman2 that I would dedicate my first chapter over 3,000 words to him. I hope nikki8 doesn't mind sharing the glory, but I think that its long enough for both of them to share nicely. And besides, I love them both, and I made two promises! (If either one of you guys is mad, I promise I'll repay you. Just PM me with your hate mail and I'll see what I can do to give y'all your proper dues.)_

**_A random thought of Inheritance Cycle-ness; So, the dwarves describe the elves as capricious, right? Does anyone else think Katy Perry Hot n' Cold when they think capricious elf? It's a little... pop-ish for them I guess... but I can kind of picture Islanzadi rocking out with Katy on stage man!_**

**_As for THIS particular chapter... well... how about you just read it instead of listening to me blather all day?_**

The Varden had reached roughly the halfway point between Feinster and Belatona, encountering only minimal resistance from Galbatorix's scrambled forces, when the first frost coated the land in pristine silver. Arya awoke that morning with cold, damp skin, but was glad to huddle against the outside wall of her tent, tucked snugly within a rough blanket, and watch the sunrise. The light bounced gloriously over the crystals, sending a farrago of miniscule rainbow dancing across the terrain in every conceivable direction. Many elves maintained that nowhere in Alagaesia held more beauty than Du Weldenvarden, but Arya was inclined to disagree. Many places held incredible beauty, and the elven forest was merely one of them: this, another.

_A pity,_ she thought glumly, _that there are so many of the Varden. Every day we must march to move the masses, and can spare little time for enjoying what surrounds us._ A pity also that she was so fanciful.

Fluidly, Arya rose to her feet as she sensed others approaching her. It was Eragon, accompanied by his guards. She moved to greet him, but the rider honored her by speaking first. Once the formal elven greetings were complete, the elf woman greeted him in the fashion of the humans. "Hello Eragon." She favored him with a small smile. "What brings you here?"

He shrugged. "Saphira has gone off hunting, and won't be returning for a several hours. I had rather hoped to be able to spend a bit of time with you." The expression on his gentle, handsome face was rather hopeful.

Biting her lip, Arya quickly deliberated with herself how she should act. Duties of Ambassador would always call to her, true, but matters were not so pressing that she must attend to them immediately. In fact, one could say that with the Varden prospering so, she had a few hours time to spare. And she honestly _did_ enjoy the man's company. "Very well." She conceded after the span of only a few moments, "You may accompany me this day."

So thrilled did her new companion appear at these words, Arya's mouth twitched into the ghost of a smile of its own accord. "You may take your leave, friends." She told the assembled elves in a velvety tone. "The pair of us shall not be wandering far at all from the general vicinity, and you deserve rest."

"Shadeslayers." They each bowed formally in turn, grinning at her and each other, before traipsing off in pairs and small groups, chattering quietly amongst themselves. _What powerful bonds that have formed between them. _Arya noticed. _Even when this war is over, the vestiges of camaraderie will not entirely disappear._

But Destidor hesitated, so Amela as well as Blodhgarm waited for him to join them with patience. "You shall contact us? If any problem arises? Immediately?" the tall elf begged of her concernedly.

"Without hesitation." Arya promised in the ancient language, allowing him to depart with fears slightly eased.

After a moment came the inquiring words, "What errands will we be attending to this morn?" Eragon was glancing at her curiously as Arya watched the last of the elves depart with transparent tenderness.

She sighed lightly in answer to this, and stooped down to gather her blanket, which had fallen to the ground as she had risen, only to find that it was already in Eragon's arms, neatly folded. Bemused, she took it from him and ducked back into her unadorned (excepting for her travelling pack resting in one corner) tent to place it back onto her cot. The rider followed her. "We shall see." Arya muttered cryptically in response to Eragon's earlier question, "It depends on my mood."

A skeptical snort was Eragon's publicized opinion on Arya's moods. The elf gasped teasingly and shoved at his shoulder in mock offense, causing the man to rock back on his heels, chuckling. Perhaps she _should_ have felt insulted, but Arya had encountered enough dwarves and humans to become familiar with their odd senses of humor, and did not so much mind the man's jesting at her expense.

"This way then." She said crisply, gathering a few supplies into a knapsack she slung over one shoulder and lifting the flap of her tent. She was quite smug that she had succeeded in containing her laughter. "We will have need of a new location to settle for the day; one lacking the cacophony of our current surroundings." It was very true that their immediate area was a bit over stimulating to the sensitive hearing of an elf, and in principal, Arya didn't consider herself a very tolerant one. Eragon nodded casually, and the pair set off towards the outskirts of the Varden at a gentle, loping pace. Eventually, they reached a thin grouping of young trees just a few yards ahead of the last of the tents, and settled themselves upon the flat top of a fallen trunk.

Delicately, Arya pulled from her sack a speckled quill, an ink well, and a sheet of rumpled elven paper, and she set them down with care by her side. In answer to Eragon's confused expression, she elaborated in a lighter tone than before, "I was contacted by the leaders of the elven reinforcements last night, Kayla and Anyglen, and they reported that they were moving faster than they originally anticipated. Apparently, they shall be arriving very soon. If not tonight, then before noon tomorrow."

"That's fantastic!" Eragon exclaimed, tawny eyes wide. "With their assistance, I believe Belatona will fall with far less struggle!"

"Perhaps." The elf murmured, taking the quill in hand. "But I will be composing a set of guidelines, information, and advise for their use in modifying their behavior among humans. As ambassador, it is my duty to ensure that they are able to coexist with the humans in a peaceable manner."

Frowning slightly, Eragon commented, "The elves are the most well behaved of all the races of Alagaesia. It is difficult to imagine them acting out unless…" He shook his head in amusement as he realized the problem. "But I remember how they reacted to _me_, and I was not ignorant of their basic customs. The Varden… they are admittedly a touch rough around the edges. I assume many of the elves continue to blame humans for the fall of the riders?"

"You assume correctly." Arya confirmed with a sharp nod. "Not that any elf would deem it acceptable to lash purely of petty hatred, but no doubt ignorant humans will provoke them. There is a reason for your guards' exceptional behavior. Not only were they selected for their skills in magic, but for their ability to overlook the offences of humans. Blodhgarm, Caesi, all of them; not one would react overly poorly to the ignorance of a human, Urgal, or the like. Certainly they too have a breaking point, but it is distant. I cannot guarantee this for the others."

"And I can only imagine the difficulties of leaving your home for a whole new world full of violence and prejudices. Losing the comforts of family and friends and travelling to a place where there is no promise of happiness, acceptance, or even safety." Eragon added with a tinge too much innocence. Arya conveyed her agreement to this statement through her facial expressions, but she was suddenly unsure if they were still discussing the elven fighters. She had a sneaking suspicion that they had crossed into the realm of her own life.

Eventually, she simply decided to ignore this, and touched the end of the quill to her lips thoughtfully as she contemplated the blank paper before her for a long moment. "This would be a wonderful point at which to make use of yourself, Eragon." Arya pointed out dryly, "How would you suggest we begin the letter?"

Allowing Arya's words to fly harmlessly above his head, the man paused for a moment, and then said hesitatingly, "Well, how did _you_ feel?"

"Excuse me?"

"Arya," Eragon appeared faintly amused, "You must have been the first elf to venture outside of Du Weldenvarden in… oh, however many years! Certainly you formed an opinion on the matter! Certainly you observed the most difficult aspects of the transition from forest to dwarven mountain! How did you feel? Address the issue in the paper."

Blinking with mild surprise at this concept, Arya hesitated, and then touched the paper with her pen. This spark of motion ignited the flame of inspiration within her, and the elf scribbled furiously for some time, while Eragon looked on with interest. Her elegant, if slightly cramped, handwriting soon filled the page from top to bottom, and she leaned back and reviewed it with satisfaction. "Very poetic." Eragon noted as he read over her shoulder with an appraising eye. "And impressively inspiring, as it is in the ancient language."

Feeling slightly flattered in spite of herself at Eragon's complement of her work, Arya grinned maliciously at him. "Your turn!" she chirped, withdrawing from her bag another sheet of paper and laying it in his lap.

Eragon cocked one upswept eyebrow in an expression of skepticism.

"Go on." Arya insisted, relinquishing her quill, "I have written down my take on being an elf acclimating to humans. Now they must know what a human might feel confronted with an elf. No tale is complete without both a right and left, up and down."

The uncertain nod that followed was slightly marred by the odd, scrutinizing look that was crossing Eragon's features.

"What is it?" asked the elf, suddenly feeling self-conscious and touching her face in mortification.

"That is the incorrect side!" laughed Eragon, and before Arya could take any action for herself, he took his thumb and swiped a blot of ink from her cheek with surprising gentleness. Shocked, Arya froze, beautiful jade eyes large. But the rider missed this, as he turned his attention to his writing as soon as his hand left Arya's porcelain face.

_Stop being ridiculous._ Arya instructed herself firmly. _He meant nothing by it._

While she waited for Eragon to complete his work (he was very focused, making no effort at all to pay attention to his surroundings or share conversation) Arya turned her gaze to the nature around her. It was not yet noon, but already the sun was warming the patches of ice in the shade of the trees, so that trickles of moisture webbed the leaf-frosted earth. Through a gap in the trees, she could see the distant beige tents of the rebels. Most of the indigenous wildlife had fled from the advancing Varden however, so the air in their secluded area seemed unnaturally quiet and still, especially after the constant tumult of her tent, where she was accustomed to working. All that she could hear of life was the wind rustling the leaves of the trees and her and Eragon's quiet breathing.

Finally, the man pulled his head up from the quill and eyed his work critically. "It is finished." Came his eventual mutter.

Taking it into her hands, Arya read over it quickly. His letter too, was written in the ancient language, and while it lacked the poetic flare of most elven works, it was simple and honest, much like Eragon himself. "It is quite interesting," the elf noted warmly, "It is possible to attain the general feel of a human's mind just by probing it, but this is… different. It allows for viewing with more objectivity while still knowing the deep truth behind the words."

Acknowledging this with a nod, Eragon took both sheets from her and, with a glance in Arya's direction for her approval, began to intone a spell. The characters on the original documents glowed a pale gold, and their exact twins began to burn themselves into the blank pages that Eragon held beside him. Using this method, the sixty-four copies required (a small number, but Islanzadi hadn't been particularly willing to dispatch more than this, and Arya hadn't wished to press the matter when, for once, her mother had agreed with her) were produced in a very short time period. Folding them neatly, the elf woman carefully stowed the thick sheaf of papers into her bag, away from the outside world. The letters might be a futile effort, but Arya feared if she didn't at least _attempt_ to instill some goodwill into the elves regarding the humans, she would be failing miserably at her job. And Arya did not condone failure that could easily have been prevented.

For quite a while, both elf and rider sat in meditative silence on their boulder. There appeared to be a severe dearth of words in the air at that particular moment for either of them to snatch up, vocalize, and actually give relevant meaning. But Arya, for one, did not so much mind. Many in the world uttered many pointless words, and she was glad that she felt no need to do so in Eragon's presence, or he in hers. Because they were beyond such foolery. There really was no need for spoken words between those who knew one another to the degree where they weren't necessary to communicate with one another.

A blast of icy wind suddenly caught Arya directly on the back of her neck, and she shivered involuntarily. "It's getting colder." the elf observed, hugging her knees to her chest, "I sincerely hope that we capture Belatona before true winter sets in, for I am not looking forward to sleeping in my tent with a blizzard raging about my ears." She shuddered once more at the very thought and tucked her chin down to her throat as her hair was whipped freely about her head by the wind.

Gingerly and hesitatingly, as if he was unsure about whether or not he would regret it, Eragon scooted across the rough surface of the rock to her side and placed his strong arm loosely about her shoulders. "Better?" he asked.

Now, Arya honestly considered punching him in the nose right then and there.

But she _did_ feel warmer and the man was clearly only attempting in that clumsy way of his to do her a kindness. What kind of person would she be if she repaid her friend's kindness with violence, and extreme violence at that?

"Yes. Much." Arya acceded reluctantly. A sudden urge came over her then, and she gave in to it, leaning slightly into Eragon's lean, but heavily muscled, side. He was undeniably surprised by this action, but a minute smile curved his lips as the elven princess settled snugly into his warm side. Yet another extended bout of easy silence ensued then, as they sat there, unmoving, side-by-side, with the rider's arm looped over the narrow shoulders of the princess. It was clear that Eragon was pleased with this arrangement, and Arya… didn't mind. In fact, she felt more tranquil and content at that moment then she had in… how long?

Faintly, cries began to rise from the massed Varden before them. Many were simply wordless cheers of exuberance, but those few who did place their joy into words generally resorted to a generic yelp of _"The elves! The elves have arrived!"_

A satisfied grin molded Arya's face as she heard this. "Listen, Eragon." She instructed her companion as she took in a healthy breath of the fresh air around her. Blinking, and noting with welcome surprise that the man smelled faintly of hazelnuts and sweet basil (a not unpleasant combination) Arya gently disentangled herself from Eragon's arm and stood with regal poise. "We should greet them."

Eragon smiled and made to stand as well, but was interrupted by a massive crash and painful changes in air pressure as Saphira herself dropped through the thin canopy of the trees and beat her massive wings hard to maintain a decent hover. _"Little Ones…"_ she snarled (Arya wondered at the dragon's use of the phrase Little _Ones_) "_I was hunting when I spotted them, winging furiously towards the Varden; Thorn and Murtagh. They are coming."_

**Oooohhhh... Cliffhanger! (Vote via review on how the Murtagh battle will end! Is he captured? Does he get away? Does he *chokes* win? Wattaya guys want? I shall obey.)**

...

**_Replying to Inkweaverabc...  
Lol I hope you do figure something out with your sister, because one day she's actually going to read my story and review and I'm going to call her IW!_**

**_Replying to RestrainedFreedom...  
Well, Murtagh is a bit of a sensitive subject with him... And funnily enough, I see what you mean. Why is MY Eragon the only one who isn't all "AAAGHHGGHG LETS MAKEOUT!" He's a normal elf/human/person/thing, just like the rest of us! Geez!_**

**_Replying to Writer of the North...  
Happy? (Thanks for the reminder!) And no, I am not. Honestly, I've never been inside of a church before._**

**_Replying to MyLifeMyRules...  
Wow... That IS impressive... like, legit... I'm kind of flattered._**

**_Replying to SarcasmIsMe17...  
Well... It DOES bother me... but I'm a believer in not changing what has been posted. I make mistakes, and I want to own up to it. And yes. Cookies just for you! :)_**

**_Replying to Katherine...  
Are YOU stalking ME now? Strawberries are on my top ten list of BEST FOOD EVAR! They are probably in the top 3... Do chocolate, strawberries, and chocolate covered strawberries count as one thing or three things? This affects the list..._**

**_Replying to xxx...  
Hey you're back! I thought you'd died or something, and I was concerned for your safety! (And thanks for your support!)_**

**_Replying to Pie In The Face...  
Well, I THINK I'm still breathing, despite my insanely loud preemptive laughing when I saw how long your review was... (Keyword think. Perhaps I'm secretly a zombie. It would explain a lot.) And was that last bit a riddle? Caz I wanna guess a firework... The raw Pie-ness of that review made my day! :)_**


	12. Tears of a Dragon, Part 1

**IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ! **_All right, so seeing as how these chapters seem to be getting longer and longer, I have come to a decision. I need a Beta reader! If anyone knows a good one or would like to apply for the job, please leave a review or a PM! Thanks all! :)_

**_Well hello, my fabulous readers, whom I love so much! Here is a new chapter, up early, because I had a writing spree. And yes, this one is ANOTHER long one! (hence my new need for a Beta reader). I really, REALLY hope you guys like how I began to handle the M&T situation (as you can see from the title, it's not done) because I worked VERY hard on this chapter._**

**_On another note, if anyone likes comedy, check out my new writer's-block-weapon Land of a Mad King! I hear it's funny... :P_**

**ALSO IMPORTANT! **_I won't be able to have access to my computer from April 28th until May 1st, so expect my updates around then to be later than usual. (I am going to DISNEY LAND! How awesome is THAT? VERY!) Just letting you guys know now in case I don't update until then, which I doubt unless I die. More because if not now, I'll forget to tell you. *winks*_

**_It was quite odd to have to write this from Arya's POV, considering she is on the ground during the fight, so please bear with me! As it is, I'm reasonably pleased with my new longest chapter in the history me! R&R and tell me if you agree! :)_**

A creeping sensation of dread trickled like ice through Arya's slightly trembling limbs. _Murtagh and Thorn..._ She did not blame them for Oromis and Glaedr's deaths, as many of the elves did, for they hadn't control of themselves during the incident. But the elf was yet to be informed of what Eragon and Saphira felt on the subject, and her feelings did nothing to change the fact that the pair was dangerous; her feelings did nothing to change the fact that in a matter of moments, Eragon and Saphira could be torn from her forever.

Eragon, for one, wore an expression of complete calm and collection. His body however, told a different story. Muscles tense and coiled as his lithe body automatically jumped slightly into a minor defensive stance, Arya could sense his fear and anxiety. But his face; his stern, brave face, did not show this. And she doubted that if she were not the only one present, his body would have betrayed him at all. As it was, he knew that Arya would not condemn him for his fear.

Calmly, Eragon made as if to spring up to Saphira's back as she landed, but before he could start towards her, Arya took his wrist in a firm grip. "Eragon." she told him urgently, sparkling emerald eyes searching his, imploring him to hear her meaning. "Fly as fast as you can back to your tent and don your armor, and Saphira's if you can. Then get into the air. I will alert Nasuada, your guards, and the other elves if I am able. Give Gleadr to me as well, and I shall attempt to draw him from his misery, if I have the opportunity. Expect Blodhgarm to maintain the direct link to your mind until such a time as I am able to return to you."

Eyes flashing with the faint fire of alertness that was brought on by the prospect of battle, Eragon nodded sharply in acceptance of these words, and made to move off once more. But Arya's grasp on his wrist did not loosen. "And Eragon…" she hesitated, unsure of what she actually wanted to say.

"I'll be careful." He promised gently, taking her hand and giving it a light, reassuring squeeze. This time, Arya allowed the rider to break away, and in a matter of moments, a huge rush of air born of Saphira's vast wings blasted the elf woman's hair back. And both rider and dragon were gone.

"Barzul." She cursed aloud before whipping herself around and flat-out sprinting back towards the Varden encampment. Flinging her mind outwards, she slammed her mental self a bit rudely into the barriers of Blodhgarm. "_Blodhgarm, let me in!"_ she thundered at him.

Faintly alarmed, the male elf did as she asked. _"Forgive me, Shadeslayer, for I didn't realize it was you who called. I was preparing to greet Anyglen and Kayla. What is wrong?"_

Losing no time, Arya repeated rapidly both Saphira's words of warning and her own instructions to Eragon to the furred elf. Still tapping into her companion's thoughts, Arya shivered as she experienced the odd sensation of Blodhgarm's deep-throated growl. _"Foolish Red Ones."_ Spat the elf, _"Does they not realize how we shall crush them? If not now, they will."_ With that, Blood-Wolf withdrew from Arya's mind.

It took even less time for the elf woman to alert Nasuada to the situation, for the rebel leader was mentally prepared for nearly every eventuality. The Varden was immediately called to arms, despite Saphira's never mentioning the enemy dragon and rider being accompanied by any troops.

Finally, after running for all this time (shocking and startling the Varden, most of whom were unaware that any living creature could run so swiftly) Arya skidded to a stop, Gleadr's sack clutched to her chest. She was on the very northern edge of the camp, and not thirty meters ahead of her ran the division of elves in tight formation.

"_Kayla! Anyglen!" _Arya called out with her mind, unable to call out with her voice as she was slightly out of breath. _"Where are you?"_

"We are here, Drottningu! What ails you?" came the response, Anyglen's, almost immediately, shouting across what little space remained between the ambassador and the other elves.

Eyes searching, Arya spotted the two elven commanders running at the forefront of their human-guised troops. She then drew herself up into a pose of one accustomed to issuing orders and having them obeyed: the poise of a princess who was preparing to impart information decidedly important. With obvious respect, the elves, along with their leaders, bowed respectfully, touching their lips. But seeing as there were sixty-four of them, and only one of Arya, only Kayla used the formal verbal greetings, to which Arya replied with haste. "A word?" she asked of the mated pair of military leaders.

Anyglen and Kayla exchanged uneasy glances with one another, but followed Arya out of the hearing of the other elves, which stood, without breaking their formation, in silence. "What is the meaning of this, Arya Drottningu?" Anyglen hissed at her, "What has happened for you to announce yourself so?"

"Something very, very bad." The raven-haired ambassador said solemnly, "Now you must listen to me. At this very moment in time…"

But the heated roar of one extremely angry dragon interrupted Arya's speech. Saphira had launched herself into the air, garbed in full armor, and was screaming her bellicose challenge to the vermillion terror that had just burst into full view above the Varden. The brilliantly colored dragoness was shrieking and clawing the air most terrifyingly, while upon her back, the distant and comparatively tiny figure of Eragon drew Brisingr and laid it upon his lap. Thorn, pride clearly touched by his opponent's challenge, snarled savagely at her and made to lunge, but was dissuaded, presumably, by his rider. Murtagh too, had his sword drawn, but it did not lie upon his lap as Eragon's did. Zar'roc, misery, was drawn and held proudly, tauntingly, aloft.

"_That's_ what happened." Arya pointed accusingly at the wine red dragon and his rider, noting the pair of elves before her had gone pale as the blood ran from their faces. They knew the danger of the situation. "And if we are unable to assist Eragon and Saphira _right now_ they could very well be captured."

"B-but Galbatorix…" choked Kayla, clearly recalling the battle at Gil'ead where the Black King had possessed Murtagh.

"will not interfere." Arya finished for the other elf woman, "He wants Saphira alive. It wouldn't do for him to accidentally harm them. But he will have made Murtagh strong enough so that he is confident his slave cannot lose to Eragon and his guards." Warnings for caution laced her voice, but then her glorious jade eyes gleamed with a sort of triumph, "But what the King did _not _anticipate was the fact that today, sixty four additional elves would be present. Only myself, King Orrin, Eragon, the elven guards, and the officials of the Varden were aware of your coming. And seeing as the entire lot of you are still disguised as humans…" Arya trailed off with a smile.

The pair of elves opposite her bowed respectfully as they ascertained her meaning. "We shall assist you wherever possible, Arya Drottningu." They murmured from behind cool, collected masks. As one, they turned on heel and bolted off to address their troops.

The screaming of claws on scales and sword on shield distracted Arya for the most fleeting of moments as the two dragons collided. Frantically, she searched for the mind of Blodhgarm, and through the elf's connection to Eragon, the voice of Murtagh bellowed out savagely within the confines of Arya's skull, "I cannot disobey any longer, _brother_. Galbatorix must not be denied what it is he wishes, and he wants _you._ Thorn and I have tried and tried to escape, especially after being forced to kill the old ones, but we have not yet succeeded. And so now, we fight. Rider-to-rider. My strength, against yours." Fire and Misery crashed jarringly against one another in the execrable sound of steel on steel, and a shower of stinging sparks.

Shuddering, Arya withdrew from Blodhgarm's mind. She needed to _focus_. Anxiously, the elven princess glanced towards Anyglen and Kayla. They were making progress, gathering permission from as many elves as possible to have their strength borrowed by the Shadeslayers. Arya knew that they would all eventually agree, but each must still be offered the chance to decline. At minimum, there would be several minutes wait for Eragon to receive the assistance he would most certainly need. Murtagh had been given more Hearts.

_Murtagh had been given more Hearts! _Gleadr! How could she have forgotten the sack still cradled in her arms? Trembling, Arya shoved her hand within the interior of the bag and brushed her fingers against the surface of the Eldunari.

Pain of the darkest, most unimaginable kind reared up to greet her, and she found herself to be standing in a dim cave-room. In one corner, a younger Gleadr huddled. All of his limbs were intact, but it was clear that mentally, he was not. _"Gleadr! Gleadr hear me!_" Arya called out desperately to the mourning dragon, _"You are needed Gleadr!"_

Sluggishly, a response fought its way through the agony of the golden dragon's tortured soul. _"Arya…"_ it muttered in a weary manner, _"Leave me child. I suffer… Go."_

_ "No."_ the elf snapped back simply, planting her feet on the cave floor stubbornly.

Gleadr's consciousness flared slightly, and his likeness stirred, in anger at being denied so. He was a dragon. One didn't say no to a dragon.

_"Your students, young Eragon and Saphira _need_ you Gleadr. They face an enemy that you could help them defeat."_ Arya cried indignantly, noting with satisfaction the golden dragon's guilty stir. Pressing still further, the elf hissed, _"You should be thoroughly ashamed of yourself. Bodiless or not, you are still a dragon, and dragons do not cower and hide when they are needed. Oromis would scold you like a hatchling!"_

With a mighty roar of pure fury, the young Gleadr lunged at Arya with extended, razor sharp claws. His eyes were enraged, and promised death. _"Do not speak to me about Oromis!"_ he howled as Arya was slammed bodily against the wall by the oncoming dragon. He shook her limp body. _"He is dead! Dead! He was the partner-of-my-life, and whether you approve or not, I shall mourn him! I am alone! Alone with my sorrows! You would do well to leave me in my misery!"_

_ "And would you condemn Saphira to the same fate?"_ Arya asked of him softly, large green eyes brimming with unshed tears.

The question brought the mad dragon up short, and slowly, the fervor left his vast golden eyes. _"No, Arya Drottningu. I would not."_

With a massive rush, the dank mind-cave vanished, along with the dragon, and reality began to slide back into focus once more. Arya swayed unsteadily on her feet, and nearly fell, but she caught herself. Overhead, the battle between the red and blue pairs raged on, uninterrupted, and Anyglen and Kayla neared the end of their seeking of permissions. _"Gleadr?"_ called Arya meekly, feeling a bit bad that she had shattered the dragon's sanctuary.

_"I am here."_ Came his sorrowful reply. He was no longer vicious and angry however, merely pained and slightly ashamed. _"I will assist my pupils, with my strength, and my wisdom."_

Arya hugged the Eldunari closer to her chest. _"Thank you, Ebrethil. And I am sorry."_ The great dragon did not reply, but his constant, forgiving presence within Arya's mind reassured her greatly.

"Drottningu!" came the sudden, determined cry. "We are ready!"

Whirling around, the elf woman found the elves in a new formation. Again at the head were positioned the commanders Anyglen and Kayla, and behind each of them four more elves. And behind each of them in turn stood eight more. Together, they formed a large, misshapen pyramid. Without hesitation, Arya linked her mind to the two leaders'. They had already linked theirs with those who stood behind them, and they with those behind _them_. Arya smiled with weak gratitude for this clever arrangement. She had only to focus on Kayla and Anyglen, and yet she retained the ability to draw upon the strength of the other elves via the second-hand linking. It saved her the bother of organizing sixty-plus minds within her own head.

Urgently, she sought out Blodhgarm, as the dragon-fight had moved away from the bristling Varden (who were in a state of panic). With glee, she located the weary elf. _"We are coming."_ She informed him. Turning, she gestured at the other elves and began to sprint towards the east as the noonday sun beat mercilessly upon her head. Eragon was fighting well, but he was weakening, as was Saphira and their elves, while Murtagh and Thorn remained fresh, courtesy of their stolen Hearts.

They passed through many more of the thin trees that Eragon and Arya had seen earlier, as well as some rocky hills, before they finally reached the place where Blodhgarm and the elven spellcasters had stationed themselves below the dueling riders. "Shadeslayer…" they croaked at Arya, relief shining from their faces at the sight of their princess leading their kin.

Smiling grimly, the elf woman joined their minds to hers and strained skywards towards Eragon. _"Help is here, Shadeslayer."_ She greeted him warmly, flooding the tiring man with a massive wash of energy and flitting through his and Saphira's bodies in search of injuries. Where she found them, she immediately set to healing them.

_"Arya!"_ he gasped, shivering slightly as several slices, broken ribs, and bruises popped out of existence. _"I'm glad you came."_

A smile danced upon the elf woman's lips. _"I know."_ With renewed vigor, Saphira and Eragon began to dance around their opponents in a truly awe-inspiring series of complicated and effective aerial acrobatics. But the fight wasn't turning in either direction. While admittedly Thorn was very, very strong and large, Arya knew that both Eragon and Saphira were holding back. Exasperated, the elf finally wailed, _"Why is it you restrain yourselves? End this already! You have _all_ suffered enough!"_

_ "Well, Saphira wants to wait until…"_ Eragon began to explain, but was cut off by the triumphant roar of his bonded partner.

_"We were waiting for _this_!"_ she shrilled, and in a contorted motion that should have been impossible for a dragon of lesser skill than Saphira (which there were none) she flipped her entire body over the screaming, bloodied Thorn. She then planted all four feet on his left side with flashing claws; wrapped her sinuous tail over his wings to hamper their motion, and clamped her jaws over a certain place at the base of Thorn's skull. With the slightest movement of her jaw, Thorn would die, and everyone knew it.

The group of two dragons and two riders plummeted to the ground at sickening speed, neither Murtagh nor Thorn so much as twitching a single muscle for fear that Saphira would kill him. Several of the elves wailed in fear. But before they could slam into the hard ground, Saphira, mighty Saphira, extended her wings. When impact finally did arrive, it was gentle enough that all involved could survive, despite the fact that Thorn bore the vast majority of the force. Several of his ribs and toes cracked grotesquely, but he didn't emit so much as a peep.

And still, no one moved. The red pair was howling in frustration, but they knew that they had lost. Saphira had Thorn completely and utterly defeated, and Murtagh could do nothing to help his dragon for fear of Saphira's teeth.

Haltingly, heart still hammering fiercely from the moment when she had thought Eragon and Saphira would smash into the ground, Arya stepped towards the riders, leaving the uncertain elves behind. _"Are you two injured?" _she asked of Eragon, her step lengthening and quickening.

_"Not seriously. Although we are rather at a loss for what to do."_ He admitted dryly. _"We do not wish to kill them."_

Taking the final strides, Arya halted directly before Thorn's scarred, snarling nose. _"I have an idea."_ She told him. _"A moment." _The elf woman turned her steady forest gaze into the deep, fiery eyes of Thorn. "Hello Thorn." She addressed the dragon directly and firmly, but her voice lacked a sharp edge, allowing kindness to soften her entire demeanor. "Do you know who I am?"

The dragon blinked, surprised. _"Yes."_ He answered finally, feeling Saphira's mouth tighten on him as he took his time to answer. _"I have seen my rider's memories."_

Arya smiled. "Good. So you must know that I owe him a debt. A debt I shall be able to repay one day, I hope." She glanced at Eragon meaningfully, her opinion on killing Murtagh made perfectly clear, then turned her attention back to Thorn. Boldly, she strode forwards and laid a gentle hand on his nose, causing him to flinch back and squirm in terror. Sadness welled within Arya as she noted this, as well as the poorly healed scars beneath her hand. Clearly, Thorn's punishments for disobedience to Galbatorix had been severe. "Waise hael."

Said scars shimmered slightly, and then vanished.

_"Why?"_ Came his suspicious query.

Arya looked at him with pity. "Because no dragon should be forced to serve under another to murder their own kind. I healed you because killing and cruelty should not be a way of life. As an elf, I respect dragons to a depth that you cannot yet begin to understand, and I _know_ that you are more than a beast. I erased your scars because your rider should have been my friend." Stealing a look at Murtagh, Arya found him as red as his dragon, fists clenched. He was fighting something within him with everything he had, she knew. "Thorn…" the elf sighed as she stroked down his head, "I know you to be better than what the Black King and the twisted creature he calls a dragon think you to be. You have a kind face."

With gentleness Arya never knew herself to have possessed, she slipped past Thorn's mental barriers and into his mind. It was filled with sorrow, pain, and confusion that ripped at Arya's heart until she thought she might scream. But she contained herself and pushed deeper and deeper into the young dragon until she found a massive knot of hurt and rage deep within him. Slowly and carefully, with both Eragon and, surprisingly, Gleadr assisting her, she began to siphon off the hatchling's hate and anger until the knot was a mere fraction of the size it had been.

Satisfied, the trio withdrew from Thorn's soothed mind. And as Arya opened her eyes upon the dragon before her, the elf saw that the great crimson dragon was crying as if his heart might break.

**_To be continued! Did I just do another cliffhanger? Naw... I'm not THAT mean. It's more like... a suspenseful ending! :)_**

**_Replying to RestrainedFreedom...  
Well... can you guess how I'm going to do it? Heehee!_**

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You have no idea how jealous I am of the cold and snow! *cries* Can you believe that I've only ever been in snow like, five times in my life? Ever? :(_**

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Hmmm... well you ARE right that Angela will be having a mishap soon... (haha NO SPOILERS)_**

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Lol well I wish my reply could be longer but I have to go to bed too! *laughsnortlaugh*_**

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	13. Tears of a Dragon, Part 2

**_Can you BELIEVE it? I got 20 REVIEWS for the last chapter! 20! *passes out from joy* Really guys that's amazing. If you do the same thing again this chapter, then we can reach 150 reviews! *jumps up and down and claps hands* I know for a fact that some lucky reader REALLY wants that dedication! (People may die, but bragging rights are FOREVER.) And I love all of my reviewers forever either way, so you know which button to push!_**

**_And on a similar note, I now have Beta readers! (Yes. As in plural.) They are Writer of the North and Pie in the Face. And their work starts... now. (This chapter was beta-ed by Pie.) Maybe I'll make some actual sense now! *winks* My new Beta team should now be referred to Team Pyrite. (Haha you geology nerds out there get it. No one else does!)_**

**_I hope you guys like how I'm handling Murtagh and Thorn! I will probably update one more time before Thursday (when I leave). The chapter is written, it's just gotta be proofread by my wonderful new helpers. (Do any of you have any idea how nice it is not having to worry about not making sense? It is VERY nice.) Just to let you all know, I am on a RIDICULOUS sugar high at the moment because it's Easter, and that means CHOCOLATE!_**

**_Before I humiliate myself further... I'm just going to stop typing..._**

Murtagh's broken wail shattered the moment, and Thorn's head jerked involuntarily as his rider's distress blasted through their connection. Luckily for him, Saphira's grip on his spine had slackened somewhat and he was afforded the space to do so without fatal injury. "Thorn, you _mustn't_!" the red rider screamed, gripping the hilt of his sword, but Saphira's savage growl froze him in place.

_"On the contrary," _Thorn murmured sadly with a near whimper, so all could hear, _"I must. I cannot allow you to return to the King. Not now. I feel stirrings within me of the most glorious and mysterious kind. My true self, my true name, has shifted ever so slightly. Before, I resented our being forced to burn and kill, but now I feel purpose. There is nothing I would not do to end Galbatorix. He has brought me to this: this desperate act I will not regret. For it is of my love of you, dear one, I do this."_

Completely ignoring the screams of increasing intensity that his rider was emitting, Thorn heaved a great breath, causing an awestruck and astonished Arya to tip forward slightly with its power. "_Eragon…" _he voiced with increasing strength, _"I will swear fealty to you, and you alone. Simply inform me of the oaths you wish me to bind myself by, and I shall do so."_

The man next to Arya started and raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Are you certain?" he asked simply, gazing serenely into the crimson dragon's mournful eyes. "Are you certain you wish to exchange one set of manacles for another? Are you certain you would swear your undying loyalty to the free riders while your own rider remains a slave to Galbatorix?"

_"Murtagh will change… in time."_ Thorn hissed uncertainly, with yet another tear trickling down his massive snout. _"I would rather him remain a prisoner here than return to suffer the King's wrath. In this way, at least we shall not be permanently separated. Do you promise me that he shall not be harmed unless absolutely necessary? Until such a time as he will rejoin me?"_

Eragon nodded. Arya shared his expression of incredible respect as he viewed Thorn. The heart-rending decision the young dragon had just made was an incredibly important and difficult one. "Very well." And the blue rider intoned what he wished the enemy dragon to say.

Thorn made as if to begin the recitation, but before he could, Murtagh cut him off. "No, Thorn. NO!" he howled in agony, "Why would you do such a thing? Betray me in this way? We will never be together after this, and you know that! How could you willingly submit yourself to such an… abomination? Remember, you promised me we would always be together! Always!" The son of Morzan had purpled in rage and indescribable agony. His veins bulged, and his fists clenched, but still, he dared not move. "Thorn!"

Ignoring his rider's howls, the dragon swore his fealty in the ancient language without hesitation, utterly astounding the assembled elves. _"One day you may understand, Murtagh, I do this out of love."_ He concluded. As Saphira released him, he swept his rider from his back and pinned him beneath his massive forepaws with force that was assertive, but not excessive. _"The Hearts. Give them to Master Eragon as well as the red-sword-of-your-sire, Misery. You will have no need of any of these until you find it within yourself to lose your hatred and misplaced anger."_

When Murtagh did nothing but mutter, "Thorn… Thorn no… Thorn…" the crimson terror turned his eyes to Arya and growled, _"Take from him his sword now, elf. The Eldunari are in my saddlebags as well as our supplies and various personal belongings I would like to return to him when possible, but I shall carry them until such a time as you and Eragon find it convenient to take possession of them."_

With a demeanor of calm that impressed even herself, Arya obeyed and swept herself towards the fallen rider, removing his belt, from which Zar'roc as well as a short dagger hung. The expression she wore felt molded and unnaturally smooth, but it was the better alternative to permitting her mingled sorrow, joy, confusion, and fear to run rampant across her features. Murtagh's betrayed gaze lingered upon the elf woman as she backed away, clutching his weapons, but he was soon occupied by the tall, whipcord figure of Eragon as he stood menacingly above him.

_"Arya."_ Eragon's words burst in upon the elf's mind, _"Will you see to it that Nasuada and possibly Orrin are summoned? They have a right to witness this."_

Making her agreement clear, Arya briefly relayed her orders to Blodhgarm, who immediately dispatched Loncara, the fastest runner of the group of elven guards, to attend to it. But Arya did not completely withdraw from Eragon's mind once this had been accomplished. Rather, she maintained enough of the link to feel the basic current of the man's emotions, and he hers. In a very odd way, the contact was reassuring.

"Will you swear fealty to me as well, Murtagh?" the blue rider asked softly of his fallen enemy, "I would not have the animosity between us continue."

Murtagh's dark eyes were wild as he spat, "I cannot and would never. I willingly serve no man, and besides, I am already a slave." A maniacal laugh escaped his contorted mouth. "What irony that I am now pledged to the opposite side of the one being that means the most to me! A cruel twist of fate pits me against both my family and bonded partner. Against those who are noble despite my own betrayal. Who shall forgive me? You condemn me to death!"

The harsh whinny of an agitated stallion sounded across the crisp autumn air, cutting short the tirade that would certainly have continued. Shortly following was the bold, rich voice unique to only one person: Nasuada. "For shame, Murtagh, that you would think so little of me and my people!" she cried out from atop her warhorse, having clearly overheard his lengthy speech. Deliberately, she dismounted and paced closer; her dress of dazzling floral embellished rose pink material swishing about her ankles. "You shall be treated with nothing but the respect due to a dragon rider, despite the fact that you shall be under guard. Effectively, you shall be a prisoner, but you yourself hold the key to your release. Thorn has found his. Where shall you find yours?"

Murtagh did not answer, but he bowed his head to her in submission. Tenderly, Thorn lifted himself away from his rider, who gathered himself awkwardly to his feet.

Eyes flashing from Nasuada's queer gaze to Murtagh's unreadable expression and back again. Arya felt a slight frown mar her features. Something was definitely off. She could not place it exactly, but judging by the uncomfortable stir of Eragon's mind, he had. Making a mental note to question the man at a later date, Arya returned her attention to reality and addressed Murtagh for the first time. "As the official representative of Queen Islanzadi, I have a few words for you, rider Murtagh."

With a reluctant scowl, the rider tore his glare from the Varden's leader and directed it to Arya. "Ah, the merciless elves have yet to share _their_ verdict." he sneered derisively.

Despite herself, Arya bristled. What had she ever done to him? As of right now, she had half a mind to _become_ merciless. But as she opened her mouth to emit a scathing retort, Eragon rushed into her mind. He said nothing, but his presence was the equivalent to a gentle hand on her shoulder that held her from her anger and smoothed her ruffled feathers. "On the contrary, Murtagh, I wish to _offer_ you mercy. This is the repayment of my debt to you." She said melodiously, successfully hiding herself beneath the expressionless mask of indifference she had become a master at wearing. "It is not the common elf that would express so strong a desire to spare you punishment for you inadvertent crimes. So I offer you this: as long as you submit to remaining in the custody of the Varden, or if such a time comes when you willingly swear fealty to rider Eragon, you shall be afforded all courtesy by the elves. Prove to my kin that you are not the monster Galbatorix has attempted to force you to be, and you shall be accepted as what you are: Shur'turgal."

Suspicion edged Murtagh's features, but Arya could detect no gratitude. This was expected, but it still stung a bit. She hoped that he understood the gravity of the offer she had made. Basically, Arya had proposed that she contest the rage of the majority of her kin for the sole purpose of shielding Murtagh from harm. Arya would take the fall for the boy who had assisted in her rescue from Gil'ead. Imperceptibly, Eragon, who was standing next to her, twitched his hand so that his fingers lightly brushed hers. Gratitude swelled from his thoughts, and Arya supposed if at least one of the boys were grateful, it was worth it. So she returned the minute gesture in kind.

Nasuada's voice snapped the tension in the air as she attempted to issue her orders without interrupting, and failed miserably. "Finche," she addressed one of her Nighthawks, who happened to be human, "See to it that word is spread throughout the Varden that while Murtagh _is_ a prisoner, he is not to be harmed and is to be treated as an honored guest. But more importantly, see to it that our people are aware that the allegiance of Thorn has shifted, and that any wound they inflict upon him will be doubled upon them."

"My lady," muttered Finche, and departed.

Turning her attention back to Thorn, Saphira, Murtagh, Eragon, and Arya, Nasuada chastised, "The hour grows late, and this battle is complete. Eragon, Saphira, you are to be commended for you valiance, and Thorn as well." Her expression softened. "And Murtagh, even though you may still count us your enemies, I sincerely hope you shall soon join our ranks. As for you and the other elves Arya," She resumed her customary tone. "You are deserving of praise as well."

Nodding in acknowledgement of this, the ebony-haired elf woman murmured her appreciation and continued to listen attentively.

In parallel, Nasuada continued in her address of the Shadeslayers, "I shall have a tent erected for Murtagh, and if it is not objectionable to you Arya, I will have an elf supplement his guard of three humans and an Urgal at all times. Thorn should be allowed to visit with him, but I am afraid that I would prefer Murtagh did not go flying until further notice, as well as use magic. Other than that," Nasuada shrugged. "I leave his treatment to you two, as you have far more expertise in this area than I do. Just see to it that I am aware of his conditions."

Arya watched as Eragon inclined his head to the woman in acceptance of these terms. She departed, as did Murtagh (under guard) for the tents once more. A few muttered words to Anyglen and Kayla, and the majority of the elves followed suit, as Arya informed them that they were in need of rest after their journey. This left only the two dragons, Eragon, Arya, and their pointedly distant, exhausted elven companions under the lazy afternoon sun.

Exchanging eager glances, both rider and princess moved gracefully towards Thorn, who was hunched over rather dejectedly, and removed his saddlebags. Together, they unclasped the tops to reveal the treasures beneath.

Arya gasped.

In total, Murtagh had sported seven glittering Eldunari of differing sizes, shapes, and colors. Gingerly, Arya and Eragon removed them one by one and settled them onto the ground as Saphira looked on with interest. Not one of the sharply faceted stones was as large as Gleadr's, but in Arya's opinion, they were just as beautiful. The smallest was approximately the size of her fists, and the largest was only slightly smaller than the great golden dragon's. But _unlike_ his, their luminance was rather dim, as if their spirits had been broken long ago. Worriedly, Arya traced the air around them with her fingers in a gentle caress, not quite sure what she might accomplish, but feeling the need to comfort the dead dragons _somehow._

"Well, Arya, shall we attempt to contact them?" asked Eragon a bit airily, as if he couldn't really believe the fact that, in the dirt before them, were seven dragons.

The elf woman frowned uncertainly. "Are you sure that is wise?"

_"What is necessary is always wise,"_ came Gleadr's sage advice. _"Come. I shall assist you. These poor souls do not yet know they are free."_

The first Heart they selected to speak with was one of middling size and brilliant orange hue, like the sun in early morning. As the quartet of beings reached mentally towards it, they found themselves in a room-cave much like the one that Arya had found herself in when speaking with Gleadr. And curled in the center of it was a young dragon with scales the same color of its Heart. But as it saw them, it shrieked madly and cowered away, clearly terrified. _"Leave me alone, foul demons!"_ it wailed, _"You have taken my strength, what more do you want from me?"_

_ "I am a rider and a friend."_ Eragon promised it in the ancient language, using the same words he had spoken to a comatose Arya. _"We do not serve Galbatorix. My name is Eragon, and I am the leader of the free dragon riders. This is my bond, Saphira, my teacher, Gleadr, and the Princess of the elves, Arya Drottningu. We have come to tell you that you are now free."_

_ "Free?" _the dragon whispered as lightly as air, its voice laced with disbelief.

_ "Free."_

**_Aw... So touching isn't it? Just wait... *evil laugh*_**

**_Replying to Katherine...  
I think my Betas will hate you for that last blessing there, but I thank you for it, because it most certainly worked! :)_**

**_Replying to DarknessBecomesMe...  
Any more sugar at the moment and I will probably puke, but thank you for the sentiment. :)_**

**_Replying to durxa...  
Ohmygawd are you ok? (Well that's a dumb question, you are IN THE HOSPITAL!) *distress* Just get better ok? Your femur makes me sad for it! (And your girlfriend is now your fiancee? Nice. Congrats.)_**

**_Replying to RestrainedFreedom...  
I laughed so hard when I read your review that I almost peed myself! (I am planning on doing a lot with Thorn, just for you!)_**

**_Replying to Oracle for Madness...  
Oh owch that SUCKS! Good luck with recovering your stuff..._**

**_Replying to Inkweaverabc...  
Sorted! :)_**

**_Replying to Korkman2...  
*blushes* Aw... Thanks! But I don't think so... (I only wish.) Also, I apologize in advance for the upcoming lack of violence but I PROMISE I will write an epic battle scene in Belatona just for you!_**

**_Replying to MyLifeMyRules...  
I will hug them ALL!_**

**_Replying to Melanmel10...  
All that you have to do is go on to any page in and look in the upper right hand corner. You will see two buttons. One will say Sign in and the other will say Sigh up. Click Sign up. You give them your email as well as your pen name and that's basically it. I hope to read your idea soon!_**

**_Replying to Skyboards...  
Oh that's ok I totally understand. Most people have more of a life than I do lol!_**

\You want to push this button./

\You really do want to./

\It's calling you./

\Do it!/


	14. Friend

_This chapter is dedicated to the 150th reviewer, Inkweaverabc. You should all know her, I think, because she has reviewed every single chapter of this story! *worships* She is utterly fantastic, and you should all go check out her stories and beg her to read yours, because she leaves great feedback in her reviews. All of you, go to England THIS INSTANT and join in on the massive group hug that is starting... NOW! And bring snacks!_

**_Thank goodness I'm back to where I have internet access! Four days people! Four! *shudders* But, I _was_ at Disneyland, so that made the agony slightly more bearable. Ah... The wonderful feeling of getting off of a bus full of cranky teenagers..._**

**_My betas have had a few issues, so this chapter is all me, just so y'all know._**

**_Also, this chapter is highly angst-y and emotionally philosophical for no apparent reason. I think I was feeling hormonal when I was writing it. (Isn't being 15 wonderful?) But I _do_ like it, so please understand my random words! *winks*_**

**_I would like to apologize to anyone who thought that Thorn's changing was cheesy or too hasty. It's just that his character is never explored in the books, and I'm not a fan of his being crazy. In fact, I like to think of him as a gentle giant. As you all know, your personality is never fully developed until your childhood ends and you reach full (or even partial) maturity, and I suppose that I just assumed since Thorn is really just a great big baby, his growing up would cause personality fluxuations that would result in true name instability. When he lost his anger, it wasn't really hard to conceive that his true name would change also. Hence, it did. Again, I'm sorry for those of you who didn't see this logic, and I promise that Murtagh will prove to be a bigger challenge, but I'm leaving Thorn as a mellow dude who is a bit whimsical in personality in contrast to Murtagh's overall... intensity. Can you forgive me?_**

**_Beware the angst below! :P_**

One by one, Gleadr, Saphira, Eragon, and Arya entered the fragile sanctuaries that the Eldunari had created for themselves and attempted to soothe the panicked creatures with kind words, assurances, and memories of their recent victory over Murtagh. And one by one, the dragons came to believe them.

But Arya loathed the experience. Never had she imagined that she would witness so great and powerful a being as a dragon seem so… broken. When speaking to them, the elf woman was faced with looking into their dead eyes that could barely process the idea placed before them. In a rather unexpected (and if she were to be perfectly honest with herself, strangely foreign) bout of maternal instincts, Arya felt the sudden and pressing desire to run to the tortured souls and comfort them. It wouldn't matter how she were to go about it, but the riderless dragons seemed so beyond the point of mortal agony that she couldn't keep it from affecting her. Compared to the violation that the Hearts had experienced over the past hundred years at the whims of Galbatorix, as well as the torment and loss, her horrific months in Durza's hands were easier by half. And this is what disturbed her.

As the four beings exited the mind of the final Eldunari, they found themselves confronted by Thorn's miserable query, _"Well? How'd it go?"_

It was Eragon who responded, as Arya could not. "Honestly? Just as I suspected it might." The paused and considered a moment, before continuing. "Perhaps better." He amended. "Not one of them has gone mad. They are a resilient group, simply world-weary and a bit traumatized, and they have agreed to assist us should we face Galbatorix. In the meantime, they have begged of us rest." Sighing, the man placed a hand on an unusually still Saphira. "Frankly, I'm shocked that they are still able to function, much less willing to fight."

Thorn shook his head sadly. In a mournful voice, he said, _"Their agony does not surprise me. It is a favorite pastime of the Black King to tear through the minds of his servants and discover their pains and fears. Should he be in a particularly foul mood, he… familiarizes us with them." _A shudder racked his mighty frame. _"But I am proud to say that my rider never abused them in any such manner. He used their strength, and that is all."_

Nodding appreciatively, Eragon stirred himself and began to gently pack the glowing Eldunari back into the saddlebags, away from the curious eyes of their distant guards. (They had been ordered well out of earshot, but they still retained use of their eyes.) Arya, feeling badly that he was doing all of the work, joined him in his task. But she soon found that her hands were shaking.

She stared at the traitor limbs in mild shock. Rarely did her body betray her in such a way, but the delicate tremors did not cease when she willed them to. Noting this, Eragon, with his expressive eyes, gazed at her concernedly. "Arya…" he hesitated, "Are you all right?"

Closing her eyes, the elf woman did not immediately answer, as she did not know how. But even beneath her lids, her traitor eyes still saw the seven dragons cowering away from her presence. They still registered their quaking, and her traitor ears still heard their piteous cries of terror. Bleakly, she recalled that while in captivity, even though she had never outwardly done the same, her inner self had. The noise of boots on the other side of her door had sent her heart into a frenzy of pounding as her spirit quailed away from the pain she knew was to follow. How could she admit to Eragon that beneath all of her courage was a person just as destroyed as the dragons were? How could she admit that to _anyone_? She had come close: terrifyingly close to doing so when travelling alone with Eragon on the return trip from Helgrind, not so many months ago. Perhaps this was why she felt an aversion to doing so a second time. She was not a weakling. Far from it. But she feared that Eragon would believe her to be one were she to admit to her fragile state of mind a second time, and this was something that her pride could not allow.

"I'm fine. Just… a bit saddened." Arya succeeded in eradicating the feeble tone from her voice, but Eragon did not seem entirely convinced. He shot her one long, suspicious look before apparently determining it was not worth the trouble to pursue the subject. (And he was probably right.)

_Liar._ Arya thought savagely to herself,_ I am a liar. A liar and a bit of a coward._

No one said a single word aloud again as they gathered everything of use from the ground and both Eragon and Arya set about healing Thorn. Darkness was falling, and the mood, which should have been jovial, was marred by the grim thoughts of everyone in the vicinity. But misery loves company, and not one of them really wanted to part towards their separate ways, and so they remained on the scuffed patch of ground, engaging in trivial discussion. To each of them, the presence of the others was comforting, especially for Thorn, who was now deprived of a Rider to share his feelings with.

As Arya studied the massive crimson dragon, her thoughts wandered a bit. Thorn was built much differently than Saphira. He was burly as dragons went, and was covered in a layer of clearly defined muscles that rippled as he moved. Across his body roamed scars, testaments to the occasions when Shruikan had become displeased with his rambunctious, hatchling-like behavior. But his bright eyes were evidence to the fact that, despite his relatively young age, Thorn had shed his childhood long ago. The dragon had done and seen things that no youngster should ever have to be exposed to, and it had aged him prematurely. Ancient in his thoughts, these experiences would haunt him for the duration of his life, be it short or eternity. Almost subconsciously, Arya's eyes flitted to Eragon's, and she was startled by the concept that perhaps this applied to _him_ too.

But the elven princess also noted something that would escape the notice of any being devoid of female intuition. What she noticed was the fact that while Saphira was toeing the line of polite behavior when interacting with Thorn, nothing in her actions expressed the inner workings of the dragon. She had walled herself away from her former enemy and new ally deliberately, and Arya had a sneaking suspicion of the reason. _"Saphira…"_ she murmured, curiosity overcoming manners, _"What are you thinking about?"_

The dragon started. _"A more appropriate question would be what are _you_ talking about? Why the sudden interest?"_ Her words were surprisingly bitter.

_"My apologies for my lack of transparency," _Arya sniffed, frowning slightly, but then continued with genuine friendliness that the dragon would have to be an imbecile to miss, _"But I simply couldn't help but notice that you are acting strangely towards Thorn, and I merely wondered what you were thinking of."_

The dragon snorted, ignoring the fact that both of the males in the group had stopped talking and were staring at Saphira and Arya, obviously aware of their silent conversation. _"What did you _think_ I was thinking of?"_ she demanded, irritated, _"Certainly you of all people are aware that the dragon to my left is only the second other member of my species that I have ever seen, much less conversed with! I am wary, as until recently he was my enemy. I am wary, because I am unsure of how to behave towards him, and I do not know if we will ever be able to get along, much less coexist."_

_ "Well why don't you ask him?" _Arya responded cheekily, _"Do you not think he is wondering the same? And on top of that, he, being male, is most likely also considering the fact that you are a highly attractive dragoness."_

The elf's words were greeted with silence. But her steady emerald gaze did not waver until Saphira responded in a very, very small voice, _"Do you think that he would be a suitable mate, Arya? Does he even think me beautiful? Can we even learn to get along? There are so many things to consider, and I haven't the slightest idea where to begin."_

Expression becoming so soft that she noticed at the edge of her vision Eragon's eyes widen a fraction, Arya told Saphira in a tone of soothing velvet, _"Then begins with the simplest thing of all. Thorn is weary, has changed his true name, lost a battle, and relinquished his rider all in the last few hours. He needs a friend right now, so be one. Bring him to the kitchens and request for him something to eat. Many of the Varden will most likely take it into their heads to deal 'justice', so watch over him. Comfort him when he is in pain for Murtagh, and lend him companionship when no one else will. With your acceptance of him, the vast majority of the Varden will too. And being friends, perhaps one day you two will become something more. Do not underestimate the power of friendship Saphira, because sometimes that can mean much more than any mate ever could."_

The dragon blinked, stilling herself, then rose to her feet. _"I shall do as you suggest, wise one." _She declared with the dragon equivalent of a smile.

_"I am simply grateful I could be of help."_

Saphira nodded, and then announced aloud to the entire group. _"Well I, for one, am tired. I think I shall go to the kitchens and request one of their soft-flesh-food creatures, as it is much too late to go hunting. Then I shall sleep. Thorn…" _she looked at him in a decievingly offhand manner, _"you are welcome to join me. I shall share my meal with you, and there is a wonderful hill topped by flat rocks nearby, which should still hold the heat from the sun. If you would also enjoy resting, this is where I shall be." _The dragon paused for a fraction of a second, exchanging something with Eragon, gave Thorn a kind glance, and then took off.

Thorn, appearing rather awestruck, immediately followed.

Smiling slightly, Arya shook her head. _Well, there's one dragon I shall never need to worry about again. _She laughed softly to herself, _She's a social natural if I've ever seen one! _Aloud, the green-eyed elf sighed to Eragon, the only one remaining of the group, "The moon rises. We should go."

"Aye." He agreed rather glumly, heaving himself to his feet and pacing to her side.

Arya shot him an odd look. "What is it?" she asked of him as they slowly meandered back towards the Varden.

A wry laugh escaped the man's lips and his warm eyes danced as he proclaimed, "This was not how today was supposed to go."

Tilting her head to one side, Arya considered the rider. Curiosity and a hint of laughter colored her voice as she wondered aloud, "Well, seeing as today was wrong, how _was_ it supposed to behave?"

"Much more peaceably." Eragon admitted, "You and I were to have a thoroughly calming and tranquil experience that merely involved such things as writing letters to other elves, nothing whatsoever to do with battling my brother and his dragon."

"I see." The pair halted at the entrance to Arya's tent. For the life of her, she could not fathom how they had arrived there so quickly. But she ignored her confusion and instead gave Eragon a playful shove. "Well today can't be helped. And after its events, I find I am rather exhausted." She smiled weakly at him. "Perhaps tomorrow, Shadeslayer."

The man laughed softly and shook his head at her. "Tomorrow it is then. Good night Arya."

"Good night." And as soon as these words had escaped her carved lips, Eragon had gone.

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X

Arya was dreaming. She knew this was so, but she simply couldn't shake the feeling of complete and total reality. Perhaps this was because she was reliving a memory.

_Beneath her, the muscles of the proud, pure white stallion rose and fell like the waves of the ocean on the powdered sand shore. The wind was at her back, and, for a moment, she felt invincible. And, as the daughter of the ruling monarch of the forest that whipped past beneath the flying feet of her steed, she had every right to feel so. It was the most beautiful of evenings, and the pale face of the moon shone brightly overhead, its crystal light falling like insubstantial tears through the canopy of trees, illuminating the strong, regal back of the person riding just ahead of her._

_ His tunic was simple, just as his entire ensemble was, but that did not detract from his beauty. Rather, it added to it. It proved to Arya that her mate was not one to give in to vanity, or be so affected by the opinions of his peers that he sought constantly to impress them. Faolin was contented by the fact that he was he, and more importantly, that she was she. Arya knew that, to him, she would always be beautiful. Her beauty was not dependant on her status, or her relationship with her mother, the Queen. It was by just simply being that made her as she was to him, and it was why she loved him._

_ Suddenly, through the deceiving peace of the starry night, there was a whistle of displaced air, and an arrow sprouted from Faolin's shoulder. An involuntary scream tore itself from him as another found its mark._

_ Arya was screaming as well. She longed to leap from her mount and run to him, but the object in her lap made her unable to do so. Smooth and perfect, the sapphire dragon egg was innocent, and under no circumstances could be allowed to be captured by… Arya sniffed the air. Urgals._

_ Yet another arrow found Faolin's unprotected body, and Arya knew he was lost. Urging her steed forwards in a surge of power, Arya raced onwards through her tears. But as she felt the horse's step falter as it too fell victim to arrows, she couldn't resist one final glance at her dying love's face as she toppled from its back._

_ But that dying, agonized face did not belong to Faolin, or Glenwing for that matter. It belonged to Eragon._

With a muffled scream, Arya jerked herself awake. Sweat beaded her body as the maniacal laughter of a shade rang briefly through her head before that too, dissipated. Her breathing was still ragged as, after a span of only a few moments, an urgent knock sounded on the frame of her tent. Then, without waiting for an answer to her knock, a female elf that Arya did not know sprang into the tent, sword drawn.

Arya stared at her.

Suddenly sensing that there was no immediate danger, the elf slowly returned her sword to its sheath. To her credit, she _did_ seem faintly embarrassed. "My apologies, Arya Drottningu." She muttered, "I assumed that you were in danger."

Putting her head into her hands, Arya answered wearily, "No, it is I who should apologize. It was my nightmare that disturbed you from…" she hesitated, unsure of exactly what the elf had been doing outside of her tent.

"Guard duty."

Arya raised an eyebrow.

"You didn't know?" the elf asked in surprise.

Suspicion edged Arya's voice as she prompted, "Know _what_?"

Clearly confused, the other elf woman frowned, "Your mother assigned myself and two others to attend exclusively to your safety, Arya Drottningu, when you are apart from the rider Eragon's guards. Did she not inform you that you would be under guard?"

Arya sighed. "She did not."

Her mother was honestly going to be the death of her.

**_Angsty AND a suspenseful ending! How awesome am I? Lol..._**

**_Before I reply to my wonderful reviewers, I think some thanks are LONG overdue. So a huge round of applause to all of these people right here.  
_**_Akira Fudo12. _angel's lil devil angel_.__ Arya Islanzadisdaughter._ BlackQueen92. _bob the builder of stuff. _Bookbelle.314. _chaSing b0b._ coolkitty154. _DarknessBecomesMe. _dsauer. _Durxa. _Elvandiath. _Eragontheone. _Flexmansteel. _Friendsforlife11. _Hannah Snow. _Inkweaverabc. _Korkman2. _M3ment0Mori. _melandu95. _Mumf._ MyLifeMyRules. _NinaRutter. _Oracle for Madness. _Peanutbuttercup526. _Pie in the Face. _SarcasmIsMe.17. _TheOnlyMarouderette. _Twistz of Doom. _Yellow Mouse.  
**_All 30 of these fabulous people have favorite-ed _I Am Arya_, so they deserve a giant cookie with vibrant purple frosting and sprinkles!_**

**_Replying to MyLifeMyRules...  
__I hugged as many as I could find! *hugs* There you go. You have now second-handedly hugged them too! :)_**

**_Replying to RestrainedFreedom...  
__It won't get explained until a little later, so I'll help you out now. Murtagh is an angry person. Remember, he never wanted to destroy the Empire, which he believes the Varden is out to do. He really doesn't like them. All he ever really wanted is to live in peace, but now Thorn has enlisted them in the fight against everyone he grew up with, and he is a bit irked. Not to mention, he has a few insecurities concerning a certain parent that he is convinced he may never overcome. And who likes to lose? He doesn't believe he can be helped, and most likely he is a little wacky after spending so much quality time with dear Galby. Does that make more sense? I promise it does but just PM me if it still bugs you._**

**_Replying to chaSing b0b...  
Lol exactly! It's like the Shakespearian plays, where the actors think aloud to themselves. But also, if you don't recall, Oromis and Gleadr had to speak aloud when they faught Murtagh and Thorn, for fear of letting them into their minds. But mainly, the drama must happen aloud so everyone can watch with open mouths! *winks* I enjoy your groovy pen name._**

**_Replying to Inkweaverabc...  
Congrats on being 150! Also, yes. I am a bit of a sucker for Mursuada. Just something I'm going to play with!_**

**_Replying to Black Dawn...  
Not a huge one, even though my family is pretty hard core about it. If it was in one of the movies, then I was unaware of it. It just seemed like a very wise, mentor-like thing to say. I was pretty proud of it! *chuckles warmly like an old man*_**

**_Replying to Melanmel10...  
Aw... *blushes* Thank you! I'll look you up! (And my mom moniters as well. I have no idea what she'll say when I finally get to some EXA. Hopefully she won't read it, because that might be awkward...) Have a happy day!_**

**_Replying to SarcasmIsMe.17...  
200! YES! One day..._**

_Every time you don't review, Arya rejects Eragon again. Help him. Please._


	15. Plotting A Rescue

**_I'm sorry guys... really I am! Don't eat me! *horrified* My only excuse for being late would be that I had a huge project due for every single one of my classes except band last week, and these next two weeks are finals... *pukes* I just couldn't quite seem to find the time... and to make matters work this is a tiny bit of a filler chapter. It is very necissary though, as you will see, and I have a few new OC's introduced here, which I plan to have a LOT of fun with! :)_**

**_Anywho this is one of a two-part thing (again) but I'll hopefully be getting my groove back very soon, and in two weeks... SUMMER VACATION! *jumps up and down estatically* You can expect more frequent (or possibly on time) updates then._**

**_On another, happier note... Eragon is still alive! We have a new record people! 23 reviews for last chapter! I almost CRIED! You are all so FANTASTIC! *cries* There, I cried. I'll bet we can reach the 200 review mark with this chapter, don't you? Who out there wants a dedication? 8D_**

**_A little shoutout to MyLifeMyRules - I hope you'll like who appears! :)_**

"Now Arya, you _know_ it is childish of you to act so!" Islanzadi scolded from the bowl of water in Arya's hands, "I assigned guards to protect you because of your great importance to both myself and others. I cannot risk any harm befalling you."

"Really?" Arya snapped back, incensed, "You didn't seem to mind for the past seventy years."

The Queen's face darkened. "A mistake on my behalf." She hissed, "It is not one I will repeat, especially now that the elves are openly defying the King."

"Be that as it may, I must still be allowed my freedom, Mother!" insisted Arya, "I am quite safe where I am, not to mention perfectly capable of defending myself!"

"Honestly Arya? I received quite a different message when I was informed not so long ago that you were dying! Dying from a wound afflicted by a simple human magician no less!"

"But in case you hadn't realized, _I am not dead_!"

"But you very well could be!"

By this time, both women were quite upset, and quite irritatingly, the similarities between mother and daughter well encompassed the angry flush of their cheeks and the snapping of their eyes. And both of them knew it. Finally, Arya forced out between her teeth, "Yes. I understand this. But for once will you just _listen_ to me? I am not a child. I am not in need of constant protection. In battle yes, I would be exceedingly grateful for any assistance guards could provide, as well as mingling among large crowds. The benefits of their presence are immeasurable; you must believe that I know this! But not only can I function as a proper ambassador with a trail of my kinsfolk strung out behind me, I value what little time I can find for myself or for those I have befriended. Armed guards aren't always conducive to a peaceful or friendly atmosphere."

Islanzadi simply shook her head, unmovable. "You _must_ be protected. Your guards shall stay as they are."

"Good day then, my Queen." The jade-eyed elf's response was icy, to put it lightly, as she recognized defeat. With grim satisfaction, Arya poured the water from the bowl onto the ground, watching as the face of her mother ran with it.

Then, regaining her impeccable composure, the elf woman rose from her seat on her cot and strode briskly from her tent into the weak sunlight that filtered through the heavy clouds, her long ebony tresses swirling about her frame in a billowing storm cloud as they were stirred by the wind. With an unfathomable expression on her face, Arya looked up at the sky, blinking away stray strands of hair. She supposed that it would rain soon.

Immediately, the three elves that her mother had burdened her with sprang to attention before her, appearing slightly nervous. They all appeared quite young.

"Arya Drottningu. Astra esterni ono thelduin." One of them, the very same female who had barged into Arya's tent in the middle of the night, stepped forwards in greeting. She was, as far as Arya could discern, the leader of the tiny group.

The elf woman looked at her new guards without warmth, but replied accordingly to their salutations. "May I ask your names?"

The first elf nodded. "I am called Luinae." She said crisply, "My companions will introduce themselves."

And this they did. Apart from Luinae, who was of rather dark complexion for an elf, there was Celebel, who sported long, gleaming silver hair, and Himnaur, an extremely quiet elf who seemed of a very serious disposition, but who Arya thought to be very kind, if fiercely protective, boy (at least upon her first impression).

"Very good." Once the introductions had been completed, Arya spoke up once more and, in a very soft voice began, "Now, I have an assignment for you three."

"Yes?" prompted Luinae, whose young, tanned face betrayed her alacrity, and the fact that she was eager to please her princess.

"Leave me. Return to duties with the other elves, where you are most needed."

With that, Arya left them staring after her with mouths agape. She felt rather bad that she was forced to be so blunt with them, but she felt it unfair to the rest of the Varden that the talents of her guards were to be squandered on her, and her alone. Not to mention the fact that being sent by her mother, they were no doubt instructed to report their observations back to her. And Arya was in no mood to tolerate having Islanzadi spying on her. Not to mention that from her impressions, Luinae, Celebel, and Himnaur were very young elves, and she didn't want to get them killed, her being quite a high-value target for an enemy.

An irritatingly zealous Luinae bounded into step beside her. "My apologies, Arya Drottningu," The little elf's deep navy blue eyes were glittering determinedly as she held her own against Arya's sharp glance, the both of them coming to a halt. "but it isn't for you to send us away. The Queen herself notified us that you may not take our services willingly, and that we are not to obey when you order us away, but ignore your protests and carry on in out duties. I will admit to you now that we are not without fear, and not without qualms. But we have been assigned a task to fulfill, and I believe I speak for both my companions and myself when I ask that you allow us the opportunity to do so. We are not mere contemptible human guards that are of no purpose other than hinder you, and as I know that you are not a fool, you are just as aware of this as I."

Arya considered the agitated elf before her. Most certainly she had agitated her by alleging that she had no need of her services, and in hindsight, Arya admitted to herself that the situation could have been situated much more gracefully. In her own defense, she herself had been upset at the moment. But she supposed that she _had_ been… not rude, but less than polite, to Luinae, Celebel, and Himnaur. As a result, the situation would have to be rectified.

"My apologies, Luinae." Arya conceded, "I meant no offense to any of you, just a will to express my opinion, which obviously is of no account." Her mouth twitched into a wry smile, directing her last statement towards the other elves, which had both timidly approached as they observed their outgoing companion, Luinae, confront their charge. But the uniformed trio appeared satisfied with this explanation, and their anxious expressions eased with reciprocated smiles.

Overhead, lightning forked aggressively across the swollen bellies of the clouds as rain began to pelt from the sky. The four elves jumped with the thunder's savage bellow, Celebel muttering something about the horrid feeling of being without trees above her head, teal eyes widening a fraction with the concussive noise. Arya just laughed, still in no mood for sympathy, and began heading once more in the direction of her appointment. "Well, come along then." she called back at her new companions solemnly, inwardly more amused than was proper at the sight of the soaking wet elves with their soft clothes and hair plastered to their bodies, appearing none to thrilled with Arya's request.

Stepping through the slippery mud pathways with the delicacy and grace of a foraging doe, the emerald-eyed elf woman succeeded where the vast majority of humans could not, and avoided sliding and splashing on the marshy ground, soiling herself and every object, be it animate or inanimate, in the immediate vicinity. Even so, it was a narrow escape from crashing head-on with Nasuada's Nighthawks that brought Arya hurtling into the crimson pavilion, leaving her unfortunate guards outdoors in the massive downpour of water.

"Ah, Arya, you're here! Did you avoid contact with purple mushrooms, as I told you to?" It was Angela the herbalist who greeted her, from her stool to one side of Nasuada's large desk.

Smiling a little, the elf replied, "Yes I most certainly did. It would be unwise of me to ignore your advice, I think."

The herbalist nodded, curls bobbing enthusiastically. "Exactly. I haven't the slightest idea why everyone else cannot acknowledge this simple fact. Their lives would be made so much more… interesting." Angela finished rather mournfully. She only shook her head and gestured to Arya's drenched figure as she muttered to Nasuada, "And even this one, who they call Svit-kona, hasn't even the sense to come in out of the rain. What is the world coming to?"

"I'm sure it's nothing good." Nasuada assured her, smothering her laugh but allowing herself a small grin, "Now shall we get down to business?"

_"Please do. Your ridiculous blathering is quite boring." _None other than Solombum the werecat nudged aside the tent's doorflap, filing in with unmistakable dignity and poise. His shiny, gleaming fur subtly shifted colors with the light, and continued to do so with his movement. It wouldn't have helped his vanity to tell him so (he most likely already knew) but Arya thought Solombum to be quite a handsome specimen of any cat, and most likely of werecat, although Arya had only ever seen one other, and therefore was no judge.

Angela however, was not impressed. "Have you told Eragon and Saphira that we are all here?" she asked of him as he arched his back and rubbed his side against Nasuada's legs, purring.

_"Perhaps."_ Was the only thing the werecat offered before leaping into Angela's lap and closing his eyes.

The herbalist sighed. Werecats. "Well, we had best hope the pair of them show up."

But the strangely private meeting would be unable to continue with Eragon and Saphira's absences, as Nasuada was adamant that the dragon and her rider were absolutely essential to the discussion. Fortunately for Arya, who had only just begun to wring out her hair, she was spared the trouble of seeking them out herself, as Saphira's head soon was pushed into the tent via the flap on the side, and Eragon stepped in though the conventional entrance, attempting to slough as much water off of his body as possible. Seeing that he was clearly late, his elven features developed a distinct pink hue and he mumbled his apologies. Arya's mouth twitched in a miniscule smile at his discomfort, something the rider didn't miss, and returned.

_"Why are we all here?"_ complained Saphira, _"I was enjoying flying in the storm."_

"Isn't that dangerous?" gasped Nasuada.

_"Yes."_

Arya, painfully aware of another appointment she was supposed to be keeping soon after this one, snapped, "She's a dragon, Nasuada. She's fine. I for one would like to know why we are here as well. Your messenger boy said something about an important development?"

The rebel leader blinked at her, but an expression of excitement soon made those same eyes gleam darkly, her ivory smile flashing. "I have received word, from multiple sources, some of them reliable, some not, that Galbatorix…" She took a breath as those in the vermillion pavilion riveted their attention on her with burning intensity. "Well, since word has spread that the Murtagh and Thorn are under our power, he has become absolutely _desperate_ for his final egg to hatch. It is being ferried from city to city as we speak!"

Arya stopped breathing. Gripping the back of the chair before her with such force her knuckles were white, the elf thought idly that it was a wonder it didn't shatter. This was an opportunity, but also a cause for anxiety, for if Galbatorix could gain control of another rider… it would be bad.

A growl of surprising ferocity rattled the tent. _"We _will_ rescue the egg!"_ Saphira snarled, tail outside the scarlet pavilion lashing, _"Immediately."_

Nasuada frowned. "I assure you Saphira I am doing the best I can, but it is still undetermined if this intelligence is reliable. If it is, it may very well be at trap. A week or two is needed to verify the situation, and another few days to formulate a plan to where we can dispatch a small force to hopefully capture the egg. It would be a huge risk to take, even _with_ the proper preparations."

"That's not good enough." Eragon's voice was low and quiet, but the authority behind it was vast, and Arya could detect in it traces of Saphira's strong emotions. But it was these emotions that kept the man from seeing reason; the truth that it _was_ an unnecessary risk for Nasuada to attempt to capture the egg, and she offered to do so only because of the friendship she, Eragon, and Saphira shared.

But Angela then broke in on the conversation, clearly thinking along the same lines as Arya. "Saphira, Eragon," she scolded, "You _know_ Nasuada is entirely correct in her estimation, if not a bit overly-optimistic. Calm yourselves."

Scowling, the pair did as they were asked, if reluctantly.

But Angela was grinning, and even Solombum had lifted his head and was peering around at them with bright eyes. "Ah, my young rider," she laughed, "I do believe I have a plan!"

Arya wasn't quite sure if this was a good thing.

**_I'm pretty sure it's NOT a good thing, but we'll let Arya give Angela the benefit of the doubt. :) See part two when I update next for the evil plot of doom! (well, it's not really evil, it's just fun to call things evil)_**

**_Jalepenos!_**

**_Replying to durxa...  
In the hospital AGAIN? Dude, you really DO need cookies!_**

**_Replying to RestrainedFreedom...  
I apologize for the absense of Murtagh and Thorn in this chapter, but I promise they're gonna show up soon, and that Murtagh will get some luv and decide he wants to give some back and the world will be wonderful again and people will be eating unicorns, pooping rainbows, and farting butterflies! (jk, that would be a bit horrific. The butterflies would probably be crushed to death when people sat down. But maybe if everyone wore kilts...) XD_**

**_Replying to Orol...  
Hmmm... I'll think about that..._**

**_Replying to Eragontheone...  
I tried for fluff... I really did... It ended up being pretty nausiating. I promise eventually it will be there though. I have a mastah plan... :P_**

**_Replying to chaSing b0b...  
I was irritated with man too but most people seem to prefer it to boy. I tend to guage what I should call him by how much of a dope he's being at the moment... XD_**

**_Replying to bob the builder of stuff...  
I... I... I ran out of purple frosting! *cowers* Does pink work? I have pink frosting for imaginary cookies... :)_**

**_Replying to Arya123...  
Wow India? Cool. I noticed a lot of my readers are from there (second only to the USA). Does that mean you're bilingual? Because that automatically makes you smarter than 75% of the population of Texas! (Sorry readers from Texas. I'm a fan of redneck jokes and most of them involved Texans. Lowest form of white man! [was that a good movie or what?])_**

**_Replying to Inkweaverabc...  
I'm such a sucker for EXA, haha I just couldn't RESIST that dream! It called to me! "Write me... WRITE ME!" :)_**

**_Replying to Parag shadeslayer...  
Hooray for non-reviewers reviewing! *dances* And asterisks! *dances again* And dancing! *runs around in a circle until collides with a wall and gets knocked out* *drools while knocked out*_**

**_Replying to Eragon Byrnsie...  
Well if I was him I'd be pretty ticked off, but Eragon's pretty dopey, so he isn't really if he still thinks he has a chance. :P_**

_If you even scrolled down this far, you will probably review, but I still gotta remind you... 200 is SO CLOSE people! :) _


	16. Happiness

**_Wow this took FOREVER to put up. I'm sorry! I have a little something included that should make you guys prettty happy... :)_**

**IMPORTANT! I now have a poll up on my profile page. (You get there by looking up and left. Click on the pretty blue link that says SimplySupreme.) It is for the rider of the green egg, which will be a big part of the story! My dear readers... THE PLOT IS IN YOUR HANDS! VOTE TODAY!**

_This chapter is dedicated to the almost-200th reviewer (would have been 200 but suffered computer problems) _Twilightmoonstar_, as well as the actual 200th reviewer, _Elvendiath_. They were both very understanding of the situation, and agreed to share this chapter! They are both great, and leave wonderful constructive criticism when they review. They will be gifted with... GIANT CHOCOLATE CAKES! Thanks a bunch for reading you two! :)_

**_Now back to storytime with SimplySupreme.  
Guess what? SCHOOL'S OUT! *wild cheering* I am SO happy, because yours truly is now... a SOPHOMORE! *maniacal laughing* Now I think that the last week of school is a weird week. People go crazy because they won't be seeing you for a few months, and do and say odd things. I had a few... interesting... experiences. XD  
Also, the entire trumpet section is learning French Horn! (Or F horn for those of you not as stupid as us Americans.) The sound that comes out of our first attempts it isn't so pretty though... I can only describe it as "moo gurgle-gurgle". Can ANYONE guess the backstory behind THAT one? :P_**

**_Now I'm a bit self-conscious about this chapter, for reasons you'll probably figure out. I would REALLY appreciate it if you guys could let me know how I did. Constructive criticism means a lot to me, and even if you're nitpicking, I still want to hear it. But without further ado, enjoy! 8D_**

**Oh and P.S. Thanks to chaSing b0b for clueing me in on the book 4 character of Grimmr Halfpaw!**

Arya couldn't help it. She gawked openly at the smiling witch, her emerald eyes wide. It wasn't that the plan was unintelligent, far from it, but it was ludicrous: absolutely ludicrous, inconceivable, and impossible. So ludicrous, in fact, that it just might work.

But Nasuada hadn't quite realized this yet. "This isn't a time for foolery, Angela!" she snapped fiercely. "The future of the dragons is no joking matter."

Angela appeared a little hurt. "I was entirely serious. The plan will work, no doubt about it!"

Face betraying the fact that she remained unconvinced of this fact, Nasuada turned to Arya and Eragon, who had moved closer together and were each throwing glances to the other that spoke as clearly as any book. "What do you think?"

Arya frowned, going over again Angela's words. Was it truly possible that the infamous werecat leader, Grimmr Halfpaw, had, via a link with Solembum, offered to steal the green egg from the King? Was it possible that, like Galbatorix himself, Halfpaw could communicate with his subjects from afar? Yes, it most certainly was, and there was most certainly precedent in a few of the ancient elven manuscripts on werecats. The only question: was it true? But what from Arya knew of werecats, they didn't lie. Deceive or mislead yes, but never lie. And it would be most unwise to ignore the offer of a werecat, not to mention the one with the most power of them all.

"I do not think it wise…" Arya began, reaching over to brush Eragon's arm with her fingertips reassuringly as he jumped at her voice, "to simply disregard such a generous offer from Grimmr Halfpaw. Despite the fact we have not met him in person, or heard him speak for ourselves, having to trust only Solembum's word as well as Angela's. But I can dream up no viable reason for the pair of them to beguile us, unless they are under the employ of Galbatorix, which I doubt. Highly."

Eragon nodded thoughtfully, then threw in, "In addition, allowing the werecats to perform this mission in the stead of the Varden would not only confound the Black King, who is unaware of any involvement of theirs in the war, but most likely the egg-bearers as well." A small smile tugged at his lips, which Arya watched with fascination. "And as always, werecats have a funny way of knowing exactly what is going on and where. They would know how to free the egg sooner and more effectively than the Varden ever could. But…" Eragon hesitated, frowning slightly.

"But what would they require in return?" Arya finished for him, voice tinged with faint sadness. Nothing in the world was free. The cooperation of the werecats to obtain the egg would come at a price, just as everything did. But would the Varden be willing to pay it?

Solembum seemed unconcerned with their debates, continuing to wash his paw, but Angela prodded him into action with a little cough. The werecat sighed under the scrutiny of five pairs of eyes, and sat up, expression going curiously blank as he, presumably, communicated with his king. Then, straightening, he pronounced, _"You are correct in that Grimmr Halfpaw, He Who Walks Alone, desires compensation for his services."_

Emerald eyes flashing, Arya bit at her lip. She had been entirely correct in her assessment, and judging by Saphira's low growl, the dragon did not appreciate the werecat's attitude.

But Solembum continued relaying to them what Halfpaw had told him, unconcerned by their reactions. _"No matter how you answer, the werecats will act. The species of dragons is much too valuable for Galbatorix's attempts to force a hatching to be permitted to continue, but in return for the last dragon egg in possession of Galbatorix to be given to the Varden as it's custodians, you must prove yourselves able to be trusted with it."_ Arya blinked. She hadn't expected that.

"And how do you suggest we go about doing that?" Prompted Eragon eagerly.

Once more, Solembum began cleaning his paw in an offhand manner, but not before muttering, _"You must assist us in a manner of the greatest importance. Something of unparalleled value has been stolen from us, and we need you to get it back."_

Cocking her head to one side, Arya scrutinized Solembum carefully. His casual mannerisms did little to conceal the fact that he was anxious about whatever had been "stolen" from the werecats. But having spent her entire life immersed in politics, Arya was wise enough not to trust an offer enough to agree to it right away. This went for everyone in the tent, although the proposition seemed simple enough.

It was Saphira who commented next, great gleaming eyes interpreting the werecat carefully. "_Perhaps if you elaborated further on this object of unparalleled value, and why you yourselves are incapable of retrieving it, we might agree to your conditions."_ She pointed out.

_"Very well."_ Once more, Solembum's face grew blank for a moment, before adopting its customary indifference. _"What you must rescue is of the utmost importance to the great Grimmr Halfpaw, and therefore to all werecats. You need know nothing more about it for now save that servants of Galbatorix stole it away from us two weeks ago, but we ourselves cannot save it from where it is now held in Kuasta. The Black King has shielded it from our powers well, but he has been more lax in protecting it from dragons and riders. This is why you must rescue it in our stead. If you do so, upon its return, the green egg shall be entrusted to the custody of the Shadeslayers."_

"Shadeslay_ers_?" Nasuada commented surprised, as both Eragon and Arya raised their eyebrows.

_"Shadeslay_ers._" _Solembum confirmed, _"Who better to rebuild the race of dragons than a pair who have slain two shades between them? One being the leader of the dragon riders and one as both the princess of the elves and an experienced egg-bearer, our King will trust no others. But they must also be the ones to rescue our stolen treasure, due to this very same trust."_

Frowning slightly, Eragon turned to Arya, who mirrored his expression of faint confusion. She was dying within to ask for further clarification; just what were they rescuing from Kuasta? But she knew to do so would be unwise. In all honesty, she was shocked and amazed that the werecat before her had spoken so lengthily at all, as they so rarely communicated with those of other races. Whatever they had lost, it must have been of unfathomable worth for them to ask help of herself and Eragon. Gently, Arya placed a soft hand on the man's upper arm and opened her mind to him. They exchanged a brief flurry of images and emotions before withdrawing and each nodding to the other, jade eyes meeting chocolate brown ones in equitable agreement. No words had passed between them, but the contact was enough.

_"We accept your offer." _Saphira declared, _"All three of us."_

Even Nasuada nodded her assent. The cooperation of the werecats was that important.

_"Good." _Came the werecat's response as he strutted from the tent regally, tail flicking, _"If you make good on our agreement, you shall have the last dragon egg within the week."_

"Well… I'd say that went rather well!" Came Angela's cheerful assessment after Solembum's departure, pausing in her knitting and considering a stitch before pulling it and beginning anew.

Arya grinned. It had.

* * *

The human and Urgal guards at the entrance of the tent moved aside respectfully for Arya as she approached, but the elven guards did not, barring her way with no change in their expressions. Casually, the elf woman swore in the ancient language, "I am Arya Drottningu Shadeslayer, and I have come to visit Rider Murtagh. I shall not free him until his loyalties are swayed." She was admitted.

The interior of Murtagh's prison-tent was dark and dreary. With the doorflap opened, or even a candle lit, the environment could have been much more cheerful, but no such effort had been taken.

"Murtagh…" Arya called out to the rider gently, summoning a soft red werelight to illuminate the space.

Something on the narrow cot stirred, and Murtagh sad up, muttering, "Can't a prisoner sleep? Bloody elf…"

Drawing a little nearer to him, Arya just shook her head, smiling a little. "My apologies, I didn't know you were asleep. But Nasuada bade me to give you this." With a swift, ostentatiously elflike motion, the woman drew a scroll from her belt and handed it out to Murtagh, whose features quickly morphed from antagonism to pleasure. "She is otherwise occupied at the moment, but she also told me she would visit with you this evening."

"Ah, Nasuada…" Murtagh murmured, taking the scroll and opening it, laughing as he read the title. Arya looked at him questioningly. "Adele-elda." He elaborated, eyes hungrily devouring the page, "She is my favorite poet. This is a copy of some of her work. Nasuada… even after all this time she must have remembered. In Farthen Dur, she used to bring poetry for me to read from the dwarves' library…"

For the first time since the Burning Plains, Arya was witness to Murtagh seemingly feeling at peace. "Aye, Nasuada cares about you Murtagh. She wouldn't forget." Arya commented, a small smile forming on her porcelain features as the man before her appeared surprised.

"What do you know of the ways of humans, elf?" he spat in an effort to regain his dignity.

"I know enough." Smirking at him, Arya prepared her words in her head before speaking them aloud. "I shall be leaving on a short mission tomorrow, as will Eragon. We shall return with haste, but I came to you today because I wanted to visit you before we left."

Murtagh blinked. "Why? I'm just a worthless, miserable prisoner of war. Leave me be."

Shaking her head, Arya sighed lightly and fluted, "You were never worthless. And seeing as you were one of the three who rescued me, I would like to reiterate my offer of friendship. But now I must go. Do enjoy Adele-elda's poems, as she has much talent. I bid you good evening."

And with that, Arya departed, leaving Murtagh looking slightly guilty. It was progress.

She and Eragon were to leave the next morning, and she supposed it would behoove her (a word introduced to her by Angela not an hour ago) to prepare herself for departure. But Arya felt she would rather use her time to be away from the bustling tents of the Varden, something she hadn't been able to do since the capture of Murtagh and Thorn. It had stopped raining, and the afternoon was fresh and crisp, if a bit chilly. With purpose, Arya strode out of the camp to the rolling, grassy hills nearby. Beads of pure crystal rain still clung to the long stalks of grass, weighing them down and bending sunlight through their pristine surfaces and casting tiny rainbows across Arya's feet.

An unwelcome voice intruded on her peaceful moment. "Arya Drottningu, may I ask where we are going?"

Looking back at her three guards with annoyance, Arya snapped, "Nowhere. Isn't it obvious? This is as close to nature you shall get for a long while. If you are to spend any length of time in this war, you may as well acclimate yourselves to the dearth of opportunities such as this to experience the world around you."

Celebel nodded thoughtfully, but Himnaur suddenly threw in, "I was issued a copy of you and Rider Eragon's letters. They were wonderful, if I may be so bold. They have helped me to regard humans in a way that isn't contempt, and I would thank you for that."

This caught Arya off-guard, but she nevertheless replied that he was welcome. She had only just resumed walking when the beating of great wings disturbed her yet again. Looking to the sky, hair and clothing stirred by the air movement, the elf woman was surprised to see that none other than Thorn was coming in for a landing, and that none other than Eragon was on his back.

"Don't greet me first." Arya snapped at him, elbowing past her guards as he aimed to do just that. It irked her when he treated her as someone of greater importance than he, especially in front of other elves.

The rider appeared faintly amused.

"Where's Saphira?" sighed the elf woman, blinking at him.

Thorn answered in the rider's stead. _"She has gone to fly in the vestiges of the storm. I shall soon join her, but I offered to bring Eragon here in her stead, as she takes such joy in flying." _The dragon hummed deeply and contentedly as Arya walked up to him and laid a hand on his scarlet nose. _"And I thank you for visiting Murtagh. He shall join us soon, I think. I miss him."_

"I know." Murmured Arya. She watched with undisguised joy as the dragon leapt back into the air and soared away. There wasn't a day that passed by that she didn't thank the stars for her luck in freeing such a majestic creature as the vermillion dragon, and seeing him so proud and joyous made her heart, normally so heavy, soar giddily. She didn't even bother to hide the expression on her face as she remained thus until Thorn vanished into the underbelly of the clouds. Only then did she turn and recall that Eragon still remained on the ground, with her. "Did you wish to see me?" she asked of him airily.

The man laughed, golden brown hair falling into his eyes as he did so. Then, pushing it back, he asked, "Did you not promise me a day that we never were able to have?"

This time, Arya _did _smile. "I seem to recall doing so. And as we will be unable to have a day off until we have both defeated Belatona and completed our mission, I suppose today is as good a day as any. Walk with me." The pair matched their paces and continued on. But Arya then stopped and faced Luinae and the others, who appeared slightly uncomfortable, and called, "You may take your leave. I am with Rider Eragon now, and unless you feel he will do an inferior job in ensuring my safety, you have the remainder of the day for yourselves."

The trio was obviously not pleased with being dismissed thus, but they were unable to disobey without insulting Eragon, which was not an advisable course of action for any elf.

"New set of personal bodyguards?" queried the man sympathetically as they departed.

Arya nodded miserably, and settled herself upon the crest of the hill they stood upon, her legs folding beneath her like a bedding deer. Running her hands through the grass as Eragon joined her, Arya jumped as her fingertips rammed into a small object. But a delighted laugh soon escaped her as she realized what it was they had stumbled upon. "Strawberries!" she chimed, popping the small crimson fruit into her mouth and sighing with ecstasy as it burst with tang and sweetness.

And for several minutes, she and Eragon did nothing but treat themselves to the heavenly fruits, grinning with each discovery of a little seeded oval, faces tinted orange by the setting sun. But they could only eat so much of the seemingly boundless supply of wild strawberries, and eventually settled into a contented quiet, happy to be sitting in peace. But the silence was permeated by Eragon's surprisingly melodious voice inquiring thoughtfully, "Arya, have you ever loved something so much that you knew you'd never stop loving it even if you lived forever?"

The elf woman considered his words quietly, silently begging him not to be trying to win her hand again. Rejecting Eragon… it had to be one of the hardest things she had ever done. Not because his feelings were entirely reciprocated, but that she was not a person who enjoyed causing unnecessary pain. The agony the rider had endured on her account was extreme, she knew, and she forced herself to recognize every ounce of it. Eragon was her friend, and she couldn't allow him to experience such pain without empathy. She couldn't allow him to experience such pain for the reason that she didn't know what she felt when she looked at him. Safe? Happy? Yes. But did she feel love? Had she ever loved _anything_ to the degree Eragon had just asked of her? Finally, she answered cryptically, "Time can heal all wounds, pain, loss, and even love."

The rider raised an eyebrow, arching it above his dancing eyes that Arya met without fear. "You aren't old enough for that." He commented, making her laugh, both out of relief and genuine amusement. He was right; she wasn't.

Suddenly, a thought struck her, and Arya grinned mischievously. "We haven't sparred since your transformation Eragon…" she hinted with a laugh, "Come. Draw your sword. You and I shall see how alike to an elf you _really _are!"

With a skeptical expression, the rider obliged, drawing and blocking Brisingr. A sharp clash then echoed across their faintly illuminated hilltop, which had a wonderful view of the Varden in the distance, as Arya brought her blade forcefully across his, her impatience surprising him. But he soon overcame this as she whipped her sword away and made an undercut to his legs, which he parried narrowly. Hair whipping around behind her as she spun out of the way of Eragon's powerful counterstrike, Arya aimed a flurry of blows at his shoulders and then right side, which he blocked powerfully. They leaned into the contact between the blades, each attempting to unbalance the other, before twirling apart. A well-aimed slice by Eragon at Arya's legs forced her to leap over the blow, rolling as she landed on the ground. Sensing her weakness, the rider lunged after her with a premature cry of victory. In quick response the elf woman swung her side around, legs coming around from behind her and knocking her assailant's from beneath him. But as he fell backwards, he jabbed at her side, causing her to dance away for long enough to regain his balance. Skillfully, Arya took advantage of his momentary distraction and swept her blade in a powerful overstrike, but abruptly changed its course to the side, and Eragon had to spin away to avoid it. The elf woman then leaped after the rider and knocked Brisingr upwards for just long enough for her to trip him so he fell away from her. In desperation, he kicked at her legs, and she fell on top of him, yet she managed to do so in a way that left her sword pressed up against his neck.

"Dead." She whispered, face inches from his.

The rider's eyes twinkled kindly as he said, whispering as well, "Still, that was much more fun then last time. You fight wonderfully, Arya Svit-Kona."

"And you as well, Eragon-finarel." She breathed, favoring him with a small smile. "I nearly lost." He chuckled softly, and Arya rolled off of him. But neither Shadeslayer made to get up, and the pair continued to lie side by side, gazing upwards at the infinite stars that swirled across the heavens, swords remaining where they were dropped. The wind was absolutely frigid, but Arya felt oddly warm. Her waist-length ebony tresses were rippling out around her form that was partially hidden by the grass, and she registered quite lucidly that the improved temperature was most likely due to the lithe body of Eragon stretched out by her side.

It idly crossed her mind that she had duties she should be attending to before her departure in the morning, but she decided that she didn't care. Tranquil and calm, the last thing that Arya remembered before drifting to sleep was Saphira landing nearby and crawling up to where they lay, draping a dark wing over them that acted just as a great sapphire tent. Suddenly, it didn't matter that in a few days time, they would be laying siege to Belatona. It didn't matter that in a few hours, she and Eragon could be in Kuasta, fighting for their lives. All that mattered was that for the first time in a very, very long time, Arya felt… happy.

**_Tune in next time for badass-ness in Kuasta! :)_**

**_Replying to durxa...  
Stop getting horribly injured! I worry for you! Go and tell your fiance that she had better learn first aid! XD_**

**_Replying to Oracle...  
Is it ok that I used Solembum as a medium for Grimmr? I know it's a little OOC for him but I figured the circumstances would make it ok... :/_**

**_Replying to RestrainedFreedom...  
Does the MXN work better for you? :P_**

**_Replying to YellowMouse...  
Unfortunately I can't, because this is a 100% Arya story. I do agree though, Thorn is AWESOME! :)_**

**_Replying to chaSing b0b...  
Betcha can't guess what Grimmr wants them to rescue! In fact... I'll dedicate the next chapter to the first one who CAN! (There you have it, the challenge has been issued!)_**

**_Replying to Inkweaverabc...  
Whoops... My bad on those. I didn't use my beta. XD You seem to be a great judge of IC. Did I do ok?_**

**_Replying to Katherine...  
Haha no I WISH! I am related to an author of an autobiography though... does that count? (The book is My Seven Lives and my great-aunt wrote it.)_**

**_Replying to Just Me...  
Saphira is flying in the storm because she's a dragon and loves to fly. Storms have high wind speeds, which = high Saphira speeds. Like Arya said, she's a dragon so she's in no true danger, and she likes to have fun. Eragon says Nasuada's plan isn't good enough because Saphira's strong emotions are interfering with his logical thought via their bond.  
SimplySupreme = 1  
Just Me = 0_**

**_Replying to Melanmel 16...  
Read chapter 5._**

**_Replying to Totally Random Solembum...  
That was one delicious cake! *licks frosting off of fingers* Thank you!_**

_Now don't forget to vote on the poll! The rider of the green egg needs your help! :)_


	17. The Dreamer aka The Filler

**_You guys amaze me! I LOVE you! :)_**

_This chapter is dedicated to Silverleaf of the Forest, the 250th reviewer, who is wonderfully insane enough to have reviewed ALL 16 CHAPTERS in approximately 4-5 hours. (Really, it's true. I was sitting on my bedroom floor (I made a little nest out of my concert trumpet, marching trumpet, and F(rench) horn which I curled up in with my laptop) and every time I checked I was like "Oh! 5 more reviews from Silver! *Pst! Now YOU have a nickname!*" Anywho Silver is now honored with a state of eternal awesome! (Are all of you non-reviewers jealous yet?) :P_

**_Now back to business._**

**_This chapter is, just for your information, unofficially titled "The Filler" (with a capital T on the The). It's extremely angsty as I was in a pretty unsurpassably angsty mood when I wrote it. (I was asked out by three guys in three days and said no to all of them in the midst of a minor panic attack.) But I hope y'all like it anyway! :)_**

**_Reminder! That poll is still up and will be until the appearance of the green rider!_**

**_And... Uh... Uhmmm... *scratches head awkwardly* Well you probably don't want to hear any more of my rambling now, do you? I'll just cut to the chase... Ready... Set... Go!_**

The whimsical fluting and chirping of songbirds broke through Arya's dreams, and she took in a deep fresh breath of the morning air without opening her eyes, in quite a good mood. But after a few minutes of peaceful resting, the elf woman cracked her eyelids and awakened fully.

She distinctly remembered that her tent was _not_ blue. She had a cot. The ground beneath the shelter of her tent was _not_ grassy. The ceiling was _not_ veined, and _none_ of the walls were blue and scaly.

Saphira.

The elf woman then remembered where she was and how she came to be there. She had never intended to fall asleep.

Slowly, Arya attempted to ease herself up out of her curled position on the ground, a task that was made difficult by the strong arm encircling her waist. It was with extreme care that the elf woman lifted Eragon's hand from her and scooted away from the rider. She didn't want to wake the boy who she had just been pressed up against, as she had no memory of how that had happened. Then, pausing in her escape attempt, Arya took a good gaze at Eragon. The rider looked lonely, still in the position he was in when she woke, which was curled around her, but this time all by his lonesome. Despite this, his expression was one of absolute contentment. When she took the time to think about it, Arya was unsure of the last time she had seen such an expression on the rider's face. For a while, the elf stayed sitting where she was beneath Saphira's protective wing, large emerald eyes wide and full of depth in her pale ivory face.

With the utmost silence, she crept over to Saphira's side and tapped it lightly with her index finger.

_"Good morning, Little One."_ Came the dragon's semi-amused greeting as she shifted her wing enough for Arya to crawl out of its shelter.

_"And what's so funny?"_ the elf demanded, blinking in the morning sunlight and making a poor attempt to flatten out her disheveled head of hair as the dragon suppressed her mirth so as not to wake Eragon.

The azure dragoness studied her through one gleaming eye. _"You."_

Wincing, Arya lowered her gaze. _"I know."_

It wasn't _embarrassing, _per say, to have woken up the way she did, pressed up to Eragon (she in fact felt quite relaxed). But it was a nagging knowledge in the back of her head that staying out all night together wasn't something mere friends would do. And yet… it didn't feel wrong to her. In actuality, she was more comfortable curled into Eragon than she was huddled alone in her tent. Frowning, Arya wondered if she should consider her actions reprehensible. Certainly they were unintentional, but she hadn't taken a real issue with them, like she would have long ago.

Shaking herself of such musings, Arya informed Saphira in a brisk, unaffected tone of voice, _"I hadn't anticipated falling asleep. It will be necessary for me to return to my tent and gather my supplies before we depart." _The elf's eyes grew gentler. _"I shouldn't be more than half an hour. Good morning to you too."_

With that, Arya departed back towards the Varden without so much as a single glance behind her, running more swiftly than any horse was able to.

"Where have you _been_? We were searching absolutely _everywhere_ for you within the camp!" Arya was greeted by Luinae's semi-hysterical exclamation as she neared her tent.

Smiling reassuringly, the elven princess responded suavely, "You haven't failed in your duties, please calm yourself Luinae. I was never parted from Eragon Shadeslayer, or I would have sought you and your fellows out."

"You… you _what_?" the young elf's midnight blue eyes were wide with incredulity and she began to stutter before closing her mouth with a slight snap.

Arya wanted to wince at this reaction, but managed to pull her impassive expression over her porcelain face before Luinae would see and be assured in her suspicions. "We embarked upon a brief scouting mission." This was a lie, but one she was happy to tell.

"I… oh…" To her credit, Luinae seemed fairly embarrassed by her automatic assumption, high, unusually bronzed cheekbones becoming mottled with red. The tips of her pointed ears that poked through her dark hair flushed pink.

"It is of no concern really," Arya consoled her with false lightness, "but next time I would prefer that you keep those opinions to yourself."

Blinking, the younger elf sighed, "A next time… I should anticipate more nocturnal outings then? Of the two of you alone together?"

A bitter taste coated the inside of Arya's mouth at her words, but she couldn't dispute them. "We have been assigned a mission this morning, in fact. To Kuasta. We are to steal a… well, a valuable item from Galbatorix's clutches."

Luinae frowned, and then proceeded with the utmost delicacy, "So… you are not… not a… a couple then?"

"No." Arya forced herself to meet Luinae's eyes for a moment, enforcing her words, before carrying on at a measured pace. She was ashamed of herself that Luinae would think so little of her that she would be fraternizing with Eragon. Closing her vivid emerald eyes, Arya pondered that last thought, only interrupted by an occasional mundane concentration as she gathered a few belongings and supplies. It wasn't quite fair of her to think like that. An elf of even her status should, by all rights, be delighted to have caught the eye of the leader of the riders; there was no shame involved. So why should she feel such when the relationship was suggested to her?

The answer was immediately apparent. Faolin. Always Faolin. Her eternal, best, and occasionally only, friend. He was dead, she knew only too well, but she cherished a belief that if she were to forget him, he would _truly_ be gone; that while she held him in her heart, he couldn't _truly_ be dead. And were their situations reversed, she knew he would be loathe to accept the affections of another… or would he? Arya would certainly want _him_ to move on, and find happiness in another, and he her. The question was, could she bring herself to do it? Eragon was just a boy. He was whole and unbroken, whereas Arya… And emotional states aside, no one in Alagaesia could afford for the rider to be distracted, not to mention the fact that she was so old, and he so young.

A low stream of genuinely creative curses flew from Arya's mouth as she tossed the last few items into her bag, threw a short wave to her guards, and sprinted back to where Saphira still waited. The matter could, and would, wait. She had a mission to complete.

"Just get on the dragon." The elf woman snapped at Eragon as she drew closer to where Saphira lay, her rider standing by her side.

The man appeared faintly bemused by this command, it being such an unusual thing for her to say to him, but he obeyed without protest. Leaping up into the saddle behind him, Arya forced herself into a delicate state of fictitious tranquility, because Eragon didn't deserve to be at the receiving end of her foul mood.

"_Little One…"_ Saphira's gentle voice prodded at her with transparent concern.

Briefly, the elf woman closed her eyes, but opened them again with her emotions completely walled off within her. _"Saphira?"_ came her calm response.

"_Are you…"_ but the dragoness seemed to think better of questioning the elf about her emotional state, instead adding hastily, _"Are you ready for your first extended flight?"_

"_Perfectly."_

"Hold on!" Eragon's warning was well warranted as Saphira unfurled her massive wings and leaped into the streaming gold of the morning sun. Thin, wispy clouds roiled around her gleaming azure flanks as she shot higher and higher into the atmosphere, moving at speeds that should have been impossible for any creature of such size. But Saphira was a dragon, and roaring joyously, she angled her magnificent body northward, towards Kuasta. This action was followed by a rapid series of acrobatic maneuvers that left Arya, who was clinging desperately to Eragon in an effort not to be tossed into empty space, disheveled, bright-eyed, and breathless. But eventually, the dragoness leveled out.

"You can loosen up a bit now Arya!" Eragon laughed at her, his entire form shaking with his merriment, despite his being slightly crushed in her grip, "She's done for now."

Turning slightly pink, the elf woman did so, and then asked curiously, "How long will it take to get to Kuasta?"

"Approximately a day. Less than that really, but we will be stopping somewhere in between to conserve energy." Replying immediately, but with a small smile in his voice, the rider then mentioned, "I imagine that Saphira will be challenging you to a duel of riddles any moment now."

With a graceful back flip in the air, Saphira chortled, _"I never was, and am always to be. No one has ever seen me, and no one ever will, but I am the confidence of all, to live and breathe on this terrestrial ball. What am I?"_

Frowning, Arya thought on this. She did so for a solid ten minutes before answering with confidence, "Tomorrow."

"_The future, actually. But close enough."_

"Fine then, but now it's _my_ turn." the raven-haired elf conceded with a grin, "I am in truth, a yellow fork, from tables in the sky. By inadvertent fingers dropped, the awful cutlery. Of mansions never quite disclosed, and never quite concealed, the apparatus of the dark is to ignorance revealed."_*****_

After a respectable pause, the dragoness ventured, "_Lightning?"_

"Correct."

And so they continued until the sun began to dip under the horizon and the Spine was drifting beneath them. At that point, Saphira ceased to spout her seemingly endless supply riddles and searched the trees for a clearing. Having found one, she landed lightly, barely jostling her passengers. Foreboding pines stretched listlessly into the sky from Arya's new vantage point, their trunks seeking to leave the earth to which they were bound with limited success.

"I've never been this deep within the Spine this far south." Eragon commented nonchalantly as he dropped to the ground, Arya falling after him. But Saphira was tired after her flight, and soon dropped off to sleep after tucking her tail around her like a cat. This left her rider and Arya free to discussion amongst only themselves, but the elf was in no mood for this, choosing to follow Saphira into slumber immediately after eating.

And then she began to dream, remembering.

* * *

_Scores upon scores of humans and dwarves stared and stared. Each set of eyes was different; some curious, some dark, some pained, some suspicious. But what each set had in common was the accusation. The elves had abandoned them. The elves had abandoned _everyone_ in the greatest display of cowardice that had ever occurred ever before, and no one had topped since. They didn't care that they had never met Arya, nor that most had never even met an elf, or even set eyes upon one. The arrival of a new ambassador wasn't an opportunity to the crowd. It was a disgrace._

_From the whites to the iris to the pupils, hundreds of eyes were fixed unwaveringly on Arya._

_Certainly she had disapproved of her mother's actions in withdrawing the elves. Certainly she had known that this had doomed many to lose their fights, to lose their lives, and to lose their freedom. But it was as if those eyes, those accusing eyes, were boring straight into her soul and telling her that unconditionally, _she_ was an elf. _She _had contributed to Galbatorix's rise to power. _She _was responsible for death. _She _was a traitor._

_And Arya, for the first time, was ashamed._

* * *

With a faint intake of breath, the elf blinked a few times as a deer clattered through some nearby bushes in its nocturnal wanderings. Still in the vestiges of her dream, she wondered at the fact of her reliving her first moments as an ambassador to the Varden. It was with vivid clarity that she recalled her first encounter with true shame. The actions of the elves as a whole had not been her fault, but the feeling remained, firmly implanted in the heart that was still so young, and yet so old. Nothing she had ever done with her life had been reprehensible in the least, but she was an elf, and that was enough.

Sighing, she returned to sleeping. But the dream still lingered.

* * *

_Arya's back was ramrod straight as she strode regally towards the leader of the Varden. But she was upset by the eyes. So upset that she couldn't even remember the poor mortal's name._

_Why was she here? Her mother had been right. The humans and dwarves wouldn't treat her kindly. But not for the reasons Islanzadi had professed. They would be cold and hostile towards her because this was the only treatment they had ever received from the elves._

_Face betraying none of her anxiety, Arya turned her head ever so slightly towards the man pacing beside her. The man who had sought to remind Islanzadi that the outside world still existed, but had only served to enlighten a lowly princess. Brom._

_As if he could read her mind, the man turned his sad, sad face towards her and said solemnly, "The elves are not perfect. But you feel shame. This is good. You, however, shouldn't feel guilt. Shame, yes, but never guilt. This is because you have no need to regret what you have done, only regret the actions of others. Give it time, and guilt will come."_

* * *

"Arya, wake up." It was Eragon's voice that came to her. Arya's dazzling emerald eyes snapped open and she beheld the man leaning over her with a broad grin on his handsome face. "Good morning! It's almost time to go!"

Weakly, the elf woman returned his smile. "Can we spare a moment for breakfast?"

"_Why not?"_ Saphira yawned widely, tongue curling in her mouth as she did so. _"I myself always prefer being well-fed before I slaughter my enemies."_

**_* Arya's riddle is actually one by Emily Dickenson. I like it a lot (it being one of my favorites) so Arya got to ask it. :)_**

**_Yeah... I guess The Filler is pretty angsty huh? Ah well, the beauty of writing while emotionally compromised... XP_**

**_Replying to durxa...  
Wow I'm glad she's there to take care of you then! I just can't seem to wrap my mind around HOW... how on EARTH... how is it even possible to have that much stuff happen to you? It's like that beer commercial, "The Most Interesting Man Alive. Stay thirsty my friends...". Does EVERYTHING happen to you? XP Tell your wife I say hi!_**

**_Replying to Bromfanx100...  
I included him just for you! Thanks for your inspiration! :)_**

**_Replying to Eragontheone...  
She does... she just can't bring herself to admit it yet. Ever read Pride and Prejudice? It's like that, just she's an elf. :)_**

**_Replying to RestrainedFreedom...  
Thanks for your tips! You are by far one of the most helpful of my readers!_**

**_Replying to Katherine...  
You broke your leg? I'm sorry... :( You and durxa should throw a horrible injury party! I do hope you feel better though... Virtual flowers? :)_**

**_Replying to The Meepsta...  
Hey thanks! :) Every other fic has Eragon beating her and I know he's great and everything, but she's ONE HUNDRED! That's gotta count for something... :D_**

**_Replying to Just Me...  
Eragon got mad at Saphira but in that case they were against each other. In this case, their feelings are mutual, even though hers are more extreme, which heighten his. Get it? :)  
_****_SimplySupreme = 2  
Just Me = 1  
And can you restate that question you've been wondering about? I'm not sure which one you mean._**

**_Replying to elvin blade...  
If I have time I'll definitely check it out. :D (Just warning you it may be a while, sorry!)_**

**_Replying to Pie In The Face...  
I feel quite flattered by your massive review..._**

**_Replying to Korkman2...  
I agree, but I think the angst is enough to fend romance of for a while lol! XD_**

**_Replying to Oracle...  
There-there... Sheldon's here... XD (Big Bang Theory reference anyone?)_**

**_Replying to Totally Random Solembum...  
O.o  
Shhhhh...  
_****_NO SPOILERS!_**

_When you push the pretty blue button down here, you get a little piece of awesome! And a little piece of pie! See the button? See it? It says PUSH ME! So... Listen to it! It is calling your name! It wants some love! :D_


	18. AN Don't worry!

This isn't super-bad news I promise.

Something happened in my life recently and I may have to take a few days to recover. It shouldn't be super-long and I promise I WILL come back. It may be a week or two before I update and I just wanted to give you guys a heads up.

If you have any questions regarding what happened, I have posted a new story titled _Wishes Are Immaterial_. It should explain why I am upset.

Other than that, I don't have much else to say other than a general thanks to those of you who reviewed. It means a lot. :)

Thank you for your understanding. Now I want all of you to find someone that you don't express your love to every day and tell them that you love them. Please don't make the same mistake I did and assume that you'll be able to do so "tomorrow". I promise you'll regret it.

See you in a couple weeks then. I look forward to it. :)


	19. Kuasta

_This chapter is dedicated to the 300th reviewer, Melanhead10. I don't know how much sugar she (I think? I'm sorry if you're a boy and I just called you a she!) ate but I'm sure it was a lot. :) I was laughing pretty hard when I read her (Again, sorry if you're a dude!) insane run of 10 reviews, all of which were random and amusing. You made my day!_

**_Hello my lovely readers! :)_**

**_So yeah... I'm back. What happened... it still hurts, but I decided I needed to carry on with my life, so here I am! (Yes. Sadly, this is my life. Or... about one fifth of it at least!) My writing's a little off, but I hope you guys don't mind too much. :)_**

**_This chapter is MEGA huge. Like, ridiculously so. Not including my AN, it is exactly 4,927 words long. *faints dead away on the floor* I know, right? But I didn't want to break it up in the middle. :P_**

**_I have some more stuff to talk to you guys about, but I'll do so at the end ok? See ya there! (If you haven't passed out from exhaustion by then.)_**

"Stop Arya, that tickles!" Eragon complained, attempting to pull his face out from between her cool hands.

"Hold still. This is important." The elf responded tersely in a break between spells, watching with interest as the rider's pointed ears seemed to recede back into his head, becoming short and rounded.

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Eragon did as she asked, although he didn't look too happy about it. Arya permitted herself a small smile at this. Despite her reprimands, she knew that it did tickle, as she herself had just undergone the transition from elf to 'human'. Her eyes almond-shaped and level, ears rounded, eyebrows arched only slightly, and cheekbones lowered considerably, Arya now seemed the quintessential human. And Eragon wasn't far behind her.

"There you are Shadeslayer. That wasn't so bad now, was it?" she asked of him teasingly, releasing him.

Uncertainly, the man ran his hands over his changed features. "Speak for yourself, Shadeslayer." He mumbled.

Arya tilted her head to one side and considered him. It was a bit disorienting to her really, that Eragon appeared like his old human self. Of course, he still appeared different than he did before the Blood-Oath Celebration, but he was similar enough that Arya found herself vividly reliving the moment when she had first seen his face in Gil'ead. But now, he appeared older: older and sadder.

"It doesn't feel right." Eragon sighed aloud to her, cinching up Saphira's saddle in preparation to depart. Arya could tell by his tone of voice that he was at the same time as he spoke to her engaged in a conversation with Saphira, but she really didn't mind.

"What doesn't feel right?"

"Looking human." He traced the back of his ears nervously, obviously missing their pointed qualities.

Arya paused in tying on her loathed skirt and looked at him.

Eragon looked right back. "It doesn't feel like me."

"It isn't you. That's why it's called a disguise."

They left it at that.

* * *

Frankly, it was nerve-wracking. Arya found the experience of walking into Kuasta without Saphira to be unpleasant. She was with Eragon, but she could tell that he was even more uncomfortable about the experience than she was. His strong, youthful face was faintly pinched, and his eyebrows were drawn together in a fierce frown. As they paced side by side along the muddied road that ran straight into the jumbled huddle of squat, grey buildings, she had little doubt the man felt very, very alone. In a weak attempt to reassure him, Arya reached out and took his left hand in her right one and gripped it tightly.

Surprised, Eragon glanced at her curiously. Raising her eyebrows, the elf woman returned this with an expression that clearly asked, "Yes?" The rider merely chuckled at her and returned his gaze to the front gate of the little town, but he squeezed her hand in gratitude, eliciting a ghost of a smile from Arya's lips.

"Oi! You two. I haven't seen yer face's 'round here! Where you be headed?" One of the two guards spotted them immediately and singled them out. The few people that had joined them on the road into Kuasta edged away from them nervously, as if they were the carriers of some horrible, deadly disease.

Smoothly, Eragon drew Arya behind him in a protective manner that irritated her, but that she recognized as necessary to protect her image as a human female. "I am here to find work." The rider called out glibly, "Kuasta, I hear, is one of the only respectable towns far removed from the War where a man can lead a life of honest labor."

The guard eyed them suspiciously. "What you say was once true." Came his blunt reply, "What be your names?"

"I am called Glaine and this is my sister, Ashen." Eragon claimed, just as they had discussed he would.

The guard nodded thoughtfully and exchanged a glance with his silent companion. "Very well." He finally ceded, "Just don't you and yer lovely sister cause any trouble, or ye'll be dancin' on the gallows, hear?"

Eragon nodded docilely, and then proceeded to guide Arya through the gap in the buildings that the road occupied. Kuasta, being little more than a village, had no protective wall encircling its occupants. The elf really didn't see a reason for the two guards at the main road, as anyone who wished to could enter the town via a smaller path or alley. But she assumed that if it made those living there feel safer, it would be unkind of her to point out that fact. "So Glaine, where shall we start?" Arya asked softly of her companion as they wove gently through the rather muddy streets of Kuasta, both carefully examining their surroundings to ensure no one would overhear their chatter.

"I'm unsure." mused Eragon, "Would our mysterious object be guarded by soldiers of the Empire, or mere villagers?"

"Soldiers." The elf woman answered immediately, frowning a little, "But the villagers will know of it. Galbatorix wouldn't trust those of Kuasta to protect whatever he wants protected, but he knows them to be necessary in sustaining whatever soldiers he has stationed here."

Eragon nodded thoughtfully. With a gentle tug, he took her upper arm and led her towards a lively tavern towards the middle of the street. Music and laughter emanated from it, and Arya supposed that it was as good a place to begin to inquire after soldiers as any.

As it turned out, the tavern was an excellent place.

"Winter's a-comin' little lady!" a highly inebriated man slurred at Arya as soon as she followed Eragon into the dimly lit room, "If you gots a mo' you can keep a poor bastard very warm." This was followed by a meaningful wink.

Curling her lip in disgust, Arya didn't spare the cur a second glance as she strode past him regally, taking a seat at a table with Eragon with marked contempt. She noticed that the rider was gritting his teeth rather loudly, but she said nothing, instead nodding briefly to a table nearby occupied by a lone, grizzled soldier who nursed his drink with an attitude most accurately described as sullen. Eragon caught the motion and sighed. "Buy me a drink, will you?" he muttered as he heaved himself from the table towards the soldier in the crimson tunic.

Arya hid her smile beneath a blank expression. Discreetly, she angled her head so as to better hear what Eragon and the soldier would talk about.

"Hey, you a soldier of the King?" the rider slurred in a manner that suggested he was slightly drunk as he slammed himself down at the other table so that he was facing both Arya and the soldier, his facing falling deep within the shadows of the corner.

Said soldier grunted. "Aye. That be so."

Eragon appeared envious. "Then you be a lucky one." He commented wisely, "One who is able to avenge wrongs done to himself and his fellow countrymen. One who achieves glory in battle and honor in the services of the King."

"Why don't you git that glory fer yerself then, little whelp?" snapped the man, clearly irritated that the younger man had decided to initiate a conversation.

With a crestfallen expression, Eragon spat, "Those dirty rebels maimed me when they attacked me farm. Can't run for a whit. I can't join the honorable ranks of the army to avenge me family neither."

The soldier grunted again. "Only you and the rest of Alagaesia lost something in this bloody war. Not a man out there who ain't out for blood. Don't do you any good to mope about it now don't it?"

For a moment, Arya thought that Eragon wouldn't be able to restart the discussion. But the man came through in less than a heartbeat. "I ain't mopin' now am I? I'm here in Kuasta now ain't I?" he spluttered defensively, his grammar just as atrocious as every other human's in the vicinity, "Say, what's a soldier doin' in these parts anyway? There ain't no war here."

Arya was unable to see the majority of the man's face, but his voice sounded bitter as his speech was broken up by deep swigs from his tankard. "Guarding a rotting old pile o' stones that's what!" he spat angrily, swiping froth from his beard, "We ain't even stationed within a decent distance from this rubbish village! Sufferin', that's what we're doing. Pushed around by those twelve bloody magicians day in an' day out, like we ain't decent soldiers. Worse yet, we share the watch with them bloody townsfolk like we ain't decent guardsmen. Curses be on the King."

With that, the soldier promptly fell face-first onto the table, snoring. Eyes flashing, Eragon shot a sharp glance at Arya over the downed man's head that lasted for a fraction of a second. Birdlike, she nodded. She had heard.

"Oh dear, not again." Clucked the portly mistress of the tavern, bustling over to the soldier and slapping her hand sharply on the table. "Breggin! Breggin get up you useless swine! You can't sleep here, you know that!"

A loud, reverberating snore was Breggin's response to her rebuke.

Helplessly, the woman tossed her hands into the air. At this point, Arya felt she should speak up. "Excuse me ma'am," she spoke up softly, trying her utmost to appear calm and demure, "but if you're having trouble with him, my brother and I could take him back to his comrades. It wouldn't be a problem at all."

"I would hate to impose upon you." Blustered the woman. But as yet another bout of thunderous snoring ensued she appeared to deflate slightly.

"We would be honored to do so. Seeing as we are newly arrived, we are quite eager to do anyone a kind turn." Eragon threw in helpfully, stirring in the shadows of his seat.

"I'll send Juniper with you then. He can show you the way." Turning, she yelled above the noise of the tavern's other patrons through a doorway to someone Arya assumed was Juniper. "Thank you, strangers." She added loudly.

"Glaine. Glaine and Ashen."

"Rosa." Rosa dipped her head respectfully, and bustled back to the bar where men were beginning to slam their tankards on the counters, demanding more mead.

Uncertainly, Arya rose to her feet and floated over to Eragon, nimbly dodging a lustful man who 'accidentally' tripped and fell right where she happened to be passing at the moment. "Twelve spellcasters? Eragon, we must be careful." She hissed into his rounded ear through his longish hair.

"We will. We are." He murmured back, brushing her forearm with his fingertips reassuringly, ignoring a catcall directed at them. "When we return this soldier to his encampment we'll be able to scout out the location of the object we're to steal. And listen. Someone comes from the stairs."

Indeed, someone did. Tumbling from the doorway in response to Rosa's call came a boy. Oddly enough, before he passed through the doorframe, Arya could have sworn that she heard him knock on it three times. But she immediately forgot this observation as she caught sight of the boy's face.

He was nearly identical to Eragon.

Despite herself, Arya let out a little gasp. This boy, Juniper, as Rosa had called him, appeared to be only about fourteen years of age, but the resemblance between him and her rider was absolutely uncanny. The elf was fairly certain she was dreaming.

"By the gods above, not again!" Juniper gasped, exasperated, at the sight of Breggin. "Old sop." He muttered. Then, turning to Arya, he spoke, "Beggin' your pardon my lady. Breggin ain't so pleased with Kuasta, excepting its mead. Though normally he passes out outside, less than in here."

Arya didn't trust her voice, and just nodded at Juniper, feeling some incredible déjà vu.

For once, Eragon was more eloquent than her. "Handsome boy now, aren't you?" he laughed standing up and stepping into the thin sunlight filtering through the tiny window.

Juniper ogled him shamelessly, swallowed fearfully, then suggested in a slightly higher voice, "Shall we… shall we go then?"

Mutely, Eragon nodded his assent, and with speed bordering on the inhuman (he was understandably distracted from suppressing his elven qualities by the revelation of the boy identical to him) he heaved Breggin over his strong shoulders like a limp sack of potatoes. Wide-eyed, Juniper held open the door, and Arya carefully filed out of the raunchy tavern on the heels of her 'brother'.

* * *

Impatiently, Arya scanned the horizon for Eragon and Juniper, tapping her foot. She knew the reputation of the Empire's soldiers with women, but she still resented having to wait for the 'men' to return and fetch her. Human women could do nothing, absolutely nothing for themselves. It made Arya want to scream on their behalf. She knew they weren't helpless, worthless, or objects. Take Nasuada. That girl had more courage than half the Varden, and did just as much. And yet humans still couldn't see. Women were worth just as much as the men and it was unbelievably frustrating to her that she seemed to be the only one, aside from other elves, who realized this.

With a sigh of relief, the elf woman spotted the almost identical frames of Eragon and Juniper returning along the path to the soldiers' settlement, and set off briskly towards them. She had wanted to go along and prove herself useful scouting with Eragon, but human women would be foolish to walk straight into a camp of the Empire, even protected. And as far as Kuasta was concerned, Arya was a helpless and delicate human woman named Ashen, albeit one currently snorting in derision.

She was roused from her wrathful contemplations when she noticed that the taller figure, Eragon/Glaine, had bent over to Juniper's level and appeared to be talking quite seriously to him. The boy was nodding slowly, with clear blue eyes (one of the few qualities not shared with Eragon) wide as dwarven feasting platters.

Drawing up to the rider's warm side, Arya watched as Juniper nodded vigorously, and practically sprinted away down the path back to Kuasta. Shooting Eragon a questioning look, Arya saw him shake his head in slight amusement, and she looked away impassively.

"I found it."

These three words snapped Arya's focus right back to the rider's calm face, and she looked at him sharply, forest green eyes practically boring into his forehead in their intensity.

The man frowned. "Is something bothering you Arya?"

"It's not important. Now what did you find?"

"Well, the boy and I dragged the soldier up to a set of rather crude barracks," Eragon began slowly, eyeing her cautiously, "after which he stayed to call out to the other soldiers, and I claimed I had dropped something on the path and departed to look for it. I took a dive through some trees and I saw a tall stone tower up ahead. I couldn't open my mind to sense who might have been guarding it, but I definitely saw movement." His dark eyes were twinkling excitedly. "At that point, it was necessary for me to return to you."

Arya nodded thoughtfully. "We can do a little scouting now, but we should meet up with Saphira. And at nightfall, we may break into the tower."

A wolfish grin crossed Eragon's face then; one that was echoed later by his dragon when they returned to the clearing in which she was hidden, touting their good news. Without a doubt, the crumbling stone tower was home to something a certain King did not want found.

* * *

Not a sound aside from the occasional rustle of clothing and quiet, steady breathing escaped the dark pair as they crept, clandestine, though the underbrush. The moon hovered as an emaciated sliver in the velvet sky, shining weakly upon the transcendental nocturnal terrain. That is, until a dark form that appeared to be the edge of a vast, bat-like wing briefly passed across it, deadening its light for a moment, before vanishing again. Arya knew it to be Saphira, circling on high.

A light pressure announced itself on her left shoulder, and the elf woman halted her motion so that Eragon dropped his hand. Bellies pressed against the ground, the black leather-clad duo (with all of their angled features restored to normalcy) remained motionless in the cover of a thin line of shrubs. But their eyes pierced through the darkness of the night, riveted on the torch-lit structure that was their target. It was an ancient stone tower that by all rights should have been abandoned long ago. Dilapidated and crumbling, its stone walls seemed incapable of harboring even the meanest form of life, but Arya knew that spaced all along its perimeter were armed guards and special wards designed to deflect the powers of werecats. The moderately sized watchtower was in essence a fortress against magic, and creatures of it. But against simple stealth, it was as vulnerable as any building.

"_Be careful, Little Ones, of where you go_." Saphira's gentle voice trickled into Arya's skull, and she assumed Eragon's as well. "_Many dangers present themselves to you. Take care not to stray from your purpose, but take care to leave no one to tell the tale of your presence here when we have left."_

The advice of the dragon was sound, and Arya quickly replied, "We will. But you must remember to stay where you are until Eragon calls you, as we discussed. We shall require your assistance to draw the enemies out once we have slipped within."

"_I'd rather just burn them all, but I shall do as you suggest Little One._"

Arya smiled softly. Saphira was truly something special.

A tap on the woman's leg, courtesy of Eragon's foot, refocused her. Together, she and the rider crept noiselessly towards the base of the tower, slitting the throats of any guard they met before the poor fools had noticed anything was amiss. Every time they did so, the one who was not handling the soldier would catch him as he fell from either Brisingr or Arya's nameless blade, gently lowering him to the ground so as to avoid a telltale thud.

Eventually, they reached the solid wooden doors. Two guards stood, bored, on either side of them. The elf's green eyes met the rider's warm brown ones in the dark. They then separated, Arya slinking to the left and Eragon the right. All was dead silent for a moment within those five feet of the drowsy soldiers, but with ferocity, Arya sprang from her place of concealment and the rider his. They each slew their respective pair of watchmen with as little fuss as possible, but the kills were not as silent as the first few had been, and small sounds of the scuffle escaped into the night. They were muted sounds, but sounds nonetheless. Cursing inwardly, the elf tapped the door open a sliver, and slipped inside.

Three of the magicians were waiting for her. Snarling in shock and rage, two of them drew swords (along with six human men with no magical ability) while the third clattered up the spiral staircase in the center of the cylindrical space to the floor above, robes flapping. Crying a shrill warning to Eragon, Arya leaped forwards at the armed men, sword firmly in hand. The six average soldiers were easily dispatched of, as not a split second later; Eragon arrived wielding the blue web of steel that was Brisingr. But the two magicians were proving far more difficult to overcome, coming well equipped with wards and tightly shielded minds.

Fortunately, not much time was lost, as the earth-shattering roar of an irate dragon suddenly blasted from outside, sufficiently jolting the well-trained magic users' concentration so that Arya could reach out with her mind and take control, slaying them moments afterward with one of the twelve words of death.

"This way Arya!" Eragon's lilting voice prompted her from the base of the spiral stairs. Immediately, Arya sprang after him, gingerly stepping around several large pools of sticky, coppery-smelling blood that looked sickly like writing ink in the poorly lit tower room.

The tower, they soon discovered, had five floors. On each one they raided, a small team of magicians (ranging from two to four) sometimes accompanied by warriors was positioned to intercept them. And each and every team failed. There were a few close calls though, such as the point when a small woman had kicked out viciously at Arya, catching her by surprise and breaking a few ribs, which Eragon had healed as soon as he had taken care of their aggressors. Another was when Saphira, battling outside and keeping the humans busy, took a javelin to her soft underbelly which her rider and Arya joined forces to repair.

Finally, they reached the fifth level. At the very far end, the twelfth and final magician stood alone, dark eyes glinting maliciously. Eragon scowled blackly at him, and asked very, very quietly that he surrender. In answer, the balding mage drew a long, gleaming dagger from his belt. With a fierce little cry, the rider lunged at the man, a few flames beginning to shiver down Brisingr's slim length.

But Arya wasn't looking at Brisingr, or even Eragon for that matter. Her large emerald eyes were fixed unwaveringly on the dagger the magician held loosely in his long pale fingers; on the thin, miniscule lines of the Ancient Language that ran down its length. And she realized that it was very, very wrong.

"Eragon! Stop! The blade!" she screamed desperately at him. But he either didn't hear, or chose to ignore her, as he continued his deadly dance back and forth with the enemy, who was turning out to be surprisingly talented at battling with both mind and body simultaneously. With the swiftness only an elf could possess, Arya danced behind their dueling figures and drove her sword down upon the enemy with every ounce of strength she could muster. His wards stopped it dead, but the incredible strength it required to block the elf's blow cost him. Dearly. Eventually, neither Eragon nor Arya were required to break his mind, as he had no other choice than to rescind his wards due to the inferiority of his feeble human strength against that of the elves that assailed him. And without those wards, he was no match for them even with his magically poisoned dagger. It clattered onto the floor along with his head.

For a moment, Eragon and Arya paused to catch their breath. All twelve sorcerers were dead, and Saphira nicely handling the soldiers outside (although their numbers were dwindling) so they were relatively safe while they did so. But eventually, the pair turned to the locked, sturdy door that their last enemy had been standing in front of. Gently, Arya unlocked the door with a tendril of magic, and pushed it open.

The room was dark and rather cold, illuminated and heated only by a single candle. It was also empty, excepting for an object that made Arya shiver with distaste. A cage.

Audibly, Eragon's breath flew out of him with a whoosh. "Arya… oh Arya look…"

She did. Huddled in the farthest corner of the wooden cage was a small, furry thing, mewling in terror. Behind her, Eragon summoned a werelight, and Arya was able to see in startling clarity the little thing in the cage. It was a kitten. But not just any kitten, for this kitten was no mere housecat. This was an infant werecat.

It came to her then. Why she and Eragon were alone trusted to take back what was stolen from the werecats; why, in the first place, the werecats valued anything so much. Galbatorix had stolen away a werecat child. And in doing so, he had provoked their undying wrath.

Slowly, she opened the door of the cage, wincing as the kitten's whimpers and wails grew in intensity. "Fricai onr eka eddyr. Eka weohnata neiat haina ono." The elf murmured soothingly to it, holding out a hand. Slowly and suspiciously, the tiny werecat (about a fourth of the size of Solembum) limped into the light, golden eyes lidded and hurting. Her (for at this point Arya could tell she was female) downy coat, which should have been tawny and bright, was matted with blood and dirt, and her front right leg appeared as if it had been twisted until it had broken, standing out at an odd angle. One of her ears had been notched repeatedly with what could only be a dull, crude knife, and numerous small slashes marred her narrow back. Her ribs and hips stood out from her skin in high relief, indicating that she hadn't eaten properly for several days.

Tears slipping down her porcelain face, Arya brushed her slim fingers on the good side little kitten's head, away from her notched ear, and choked out coarsely, "_Slytha_."

Immediately, the kitten trembled and fell to the floor of her cage, deeply asleep.

"Arya…" Eragon began quietly from her side.

But the elf didn't want to hear it. "No Eragon!" she snapped at him, standing up from her crouch, "Don't you see? She's young. Much too young to be able to give them any useful information. And they… they…" A memory assaulted her suddenly, choking her voice for a fraction of a second. _The Shade bent over her, sharpened teeth glinted subtly as he smiled. He smiled and smiled, and Arya screamed and screamed. The nauseating smell of burning flesh clogged her nose as agony ripped itself through her entire body. And then there was the blood. There was so much __blood__! And she could smell that too._ Arya shook herself free. "They tortured her!" she whispered helplessly to Eragon, who wore an expression of misery. "They tortured her when she had nothing to give; no way to save herself, and when she was to young to understand the reason for her pain."

"I… I know. But Arya…" delicately, the rider tried again, his soft eyes pleading, "Arya we have to get her out of here. We must take her to safety. We can do nothing to change the past, but we can influence the future."

Mutely, the elf woman nodded. She then bent carefully and gathered the baby werecat into her arms, still asleep, and handed her off to Eragon, who wrapped her up in his cloak with the utmost sensitivity. Together, they both bolted back down through the tower and out the doors from whence they came.

Saphira was utterly out of her mind when she saw the werecat. "_Oath-breakers! Traitors! Murderers! Evil_!" she howled again and again, tearing up and eviscerating the last few soldiers that hadn't run home crying for their mothers with a ferocity Arya never thought possible. After that, she blasted them with fire until they were little more then blackened smudges on the ground. Then, and only then, did she allow Eragon and Arya to scramble up into her saddle. But when she took off, she didn't angle for the Varden.

"Saphira, what are you doing?" shrieked Eragon aloud as the dragon dove down towards the feeble lights of Kuasta. Arya realized that Saphira must have closed off her mind to him.

But the dragon had an answer for them. "_Something good must come of the evil._" Came her frank response, and before the elf woman even had time to scream, the dragon landed with a thunderous crash in the very center of the village. People ran screaming from the massive, fire-breathing beast that had suddenly dropped from the sky, two graceful figures upon its back. And yet she didn't seem to care. With one simple turn of her head, Saphira faced the ruins of a dilapidated statue of some hero long forgotten, and unimportant. She then thrust her head forwards until she had pushed it over, causing it to come crashing down into rubble. Where the statue once stood, there was only empty space. Her broad nose snaked down until it touched the ground.

Snaking tendrils of pure, unadulterated diamond shot from the point of contact, expanding and writhing ever upwards into a vast spire. "_Purity_." Saphira hummed. Then, a streak of ruby wound its way up the side, curving gracefully until it too reached the tip. "_Blood_." And at that tip, where the ruby and diamond wound themselves together, a warm gold spread and formed a narrow strip that spiraled around the top a bit before streaming downward in a path parallel to the ruby streak. "_Resilience. It is all we can hope for, and all we have left to us_."

Arya bowed her head, as did the dragon and her rider. Then, without further ado, Saphira leaped back into the sky for their return journey, heedless of the awestruck face of Juniper that followed her until she was lost from sight.

**_Still breathing everyone? I know that was a reading workout! :P_**

* * *

**So as you noticed, I have an OC in there named Juniper. If you were wondering, he IS related to Eragon, and is in fact his cousin on Brom's side. He's a random plot bunny that I decided had to happen. :) I won't be doing anything more with him though, and that's why he is up for adoption! If anyone would like to write a little something with him, just let me know and I give you free reign. :D**

* * *

**So... I'm going to start out with replying to the reviews of ch 17 ok? I'll move on to one or two of 18 if there's room.**

_**Replying to The Meepsta...  
Thank goodness! *relief* I really do try VERY hard to achieve that. I hate it when their relationship is just random fluff and insane OOC-ness (yep that's now a word) because NO relationship is like that. (Hehe like my shpeel?)**_

_**Replying to Durxa...  
Hey, you two are cheaters! I already PMed you MUCHOS! What are you doing here on the conventional replies? :P (Just kidding you're awesome!)**_

_**Replying to Twilightmoonstar...  
Hey, I blame no one for having a life outside of me! (Which none of you have, right? Good lol!) How'd you like my new werecat OC? You haven't really met her yet and she's really, really young, but she's my brain baby. :) And I already addressed your poll issue right? Or was that just in my head? **_

_**Replying to Bromfanx100...  
Juniper is inspired by you! :) (Brom's nephew. Fancy huh?)**_

_**Replying to RestrainedFreedom...  
Well, the elves ARE notorious backpedal-ers! XD  
Don't worry though I'm gradually inching her closer and closer to some more mushy feelings, just you wait! (Not OOC of course, you know what I mean.) *winks***_

_**Replying to Crysttal...  
Actually your grammar and spelling was perfect there. Good job! (Now it's my turn. If you value good grammar, turn back now!)  
Yo hablo espanol... asi-asi. Mi clase es muy baja, pero yo quiero hablar espanol todos los dias porque mis amigos son mexico.  
Pretty bad huh? Ah well. I try! (My spanglish is a LOT better!)  
:)**_

_**Replying to Silver...  
That's what my other friends all tell me! XP**_

_**Replying to Inkweaverabc...  
Aw I'm sorry I was going down my review list and completely skipped like three of them! :(  
**__**I can't take full credit for Saphira's riddle. I found one on the internet and tweaked it a lot, so I'll settle for half credit. :P And yes, I have read SO many horrific OC Mary-Sue fics that I may cry just remembering! But WP makes it easier to bear the agony...  
And don't you love how concerned people get when you're on the computer? They're just jellin. :)**_

_**Replying to Totally Random Solembum...  
Haha me and my imaginary boyfriend cuddle all the time! I figured Arya deserved some cuddling. :D**_

_**Replying to Just me again...  
Why are you complaining to me about Shruikan? He's not even in my fic!**_

_**Replying to Dark Hybrid Entity 13...  
Aw thanks. :)**_

_**Replying to Deimos Stryker...  
Uhm... ok. I do too. :P**_

_**Replying to Joe...  
*blushes* Aw... shucks. :)  
**__**Love the pen name by the way!**_

_Give that review button some love guys! It loves YOU, so love it back! :) _


	20. Seeing Green

**_Alright you people! Glad to see you all again! :D  
Sorry this update came so late. What can I say? I had a life. Then my betas both had lives. Is it just me, or do lives conspire against fanfiction? O_o_**

**_We are SO close to the 350 review mark guys! Can you do it? Yes you can! *claps hands excitedly* Can I stress how much I LOVE reviews? I REALLY love them. They make me happy! (Just something to think about guys...) 8D_**

**_About this particular chapter. Yes, we meet baby werecat. *winks* Yes, the green egg is given to Eragon. *cheers* But no, it doesn't hatch just yet. Remember the poll guys? It's still up there! I need everyone to vote on it so I know who the new rider is! This affects the plotline from here on in, and I can't continue until I have the opinions of all of my lovely readers. :) So go do it! It only takes like 5 seconds I swear!_**

**_Oh, and RestrainedFreedom? I have a Murtagh scene in here. I really, really hate it with a deep passion and considered taking it out, but my beta approved of it, so I left it. Brace yourself! *winces* :/_**

Arya stared into the fire. Fire was such a simple thing, really. It warmed her cold, clammy hands when she neared it; it heated the stew Eragon was slicing vegetables into; it cast feeble, flickering light across their tiny point on the surface of the world; and it consumed that which they fed it without undue discrimination. But it was also beautiful, writhing and dancing in a golden glow rivaled only by such things as a dragon's hide, and taking joy in the simple fact that it _was. _It's existence would never last for long, but fire made the most of what little life it had before finding peace and fizzling out until it was nothing more than ash and charcoal. This was something Arya wished she could do. Live with such indescribable joy that all who gazed upon her would be transfixed as she herself was now. She wanted to have the power to give warmth and comfort to people of all kinds, and the power to burn away all that was dry and dead to make way for new life. She didn't _need _to live forever, so long as she was happy as she was.

But she was an elf. And living forever went hand-in-hand with this, while happiness… she knew it was something war didn't bring.

"Something to eat, Arya Svit-kona?" a gentle voice nudged aside the troubles that plagued her, and a bowl with steam curling up the top was placed into her hands.

Delicately, the elf woman sipped at the scalding liquid. It burned her tongue, but it tasted good, and the warmth was rather welcome in the frigid night air. "Thank you Eragon." She murmured softly as he hunkered down beside her, his own bowl clutched tightly in his hands.

He smiled warmly at her through a few stray strands of hair. "You're quite welcome."

Silence reigned after that, for they were tired. Saphira, behind them, had already fallen asleep. She had done so almost immediately after they had landed on the other side of the mountains the humans referred to as the Spine, exhausted. On the flight over, Arya and Eragon had healed the werecat child, who was currently asleep in Eragon's cloak between Saphira's front paws. At one point during the journey, she had stirred as if she might have woken, but they had put her back under again for fear she would panic at suddenly finding herself on the back of a strange dragon.

So now, only Eragon and herself were awake in their camp at the edge of the forest. The night was half gone, but neither displayed any inclination to abandon their post leaning up against Saphira's warm side. Rather, they sat quietly, each sipping their stew distractedly. But Arya eventually couldn't take the silence. "We did it."

Eragon chuckled softly. "Indeed we did. And not the worse for wear either!" he answered with a weary grin. "Do you think that the werecats have rescued the last egg by this time?"

Nodding lightly her affirmative, Arya briefly wondered for whom the egg would hatch for once they had it. Like Saphira's egg, she supposed that the most likely scenario would be that it would remain unmatched for years until the proper rider was found. In all likelihood, Eragon would take custody of the egg and present it to any likely matches while he himself was present. After all, he being a dragon rider, not only was it his property by right, it was safest in his and Saphira's possession.

As if he could read her thoughts, said dragon rider sighed, "Don't worry. We'll find its rider."

"I wasn't worried." Came her short reply before she placed her bowl to the side and curled up into Saphira's leg, stifling a yawn.

With a yawn of his own, Eragon imitated her movement and leaned back was well. But before he closed his eyes, he told her quietly, "I'm quite glad you came with me this venture, Shadeslayer. You are an invaluable companion, and most likely the reason we succeeded."

Weakly, Arya laughed, oddly glad he thought so well of her. But she blamed her extreme state of exhaustion and not the complement for the rush of blood to her face that tinted her cheeks and pointed ears a deep pink. Then, surprising even herself, Arya scooted over to where Eragon sat and lay down next to him. And it was there where she finally fell asleep.

* * *

"_Wake up, Little Ones. The small werecat stirs."_ Saphira's sonorous voice filled Arya's shallow dream to the brim, and she fluttered her eyes open feebly. Thin, pale morning sunlight was filtering weakly through the trees above her, bouncing off of Saphira's bright scales.

"Good morning Saphira." Arya mumbled blearily, sitting up and scrubbing her eyes.

"_Good morning, Little Warrior."_ The dragon replied gently, humming a little. _"You may want to hurry over here."_ She added.

A tall shape moved past her, and Arya suddenly felt chilled as Eragon, along with his body heat, sprang to his feet from his resting place by her side and scrambled towards where Saphira's head was bent. More than a little annoyed, the elf woman followed.

The little werecat was awake. Her tawny head was poked up out of her little cloak-nest and she was eyeing Saphira warily with a guarded expression, as if she was preparing herself to bolt. But when she caught sight of Arya and Eragon, she relaxed a little, and she stared at them for a long while before brushing their minds lightly with her own and asking in the ancient language, _"Who are you?" _The timbre of her voice betrayed the fact that she was a very, very young child even by werecat standards.

"My name is Eragon Shadeslayer, and this is Arya Drottningu Shadeslayer. My dragon's name is Saphira Brightscales." Eragon responded quickly in the same tongue, gesturing to each of his companions in turn.

The kitten blinked. _"Where are we?"_

This time it was Arya who answered her. "We are at the base of the Spine, on our way to the Varden, which marches on Belatona as we speak. This is where we shall take you, so you shall be safe."

"_Why did you take me from the bad men?"_

"_We are not savages, Small One." _Saphira told her kindly, sparkling azure eyes fixed on the mangy kitten, _"Were we to have found you anywhere, we would have rescued you. But as it so happens, we were specifically sent for you by one Grimmr Halfpaw."_

The werecat appeared extremely pleased by this. _"That's my father."_ She told them proudly. _"I knew he'd come for me. When I got lost and the bad men found me, I told them he would. And he did."_

Exchanging a look with Eragon, Arya raised an eyebrow. Galbatorix had held an extremely valuable hostage indeed: the daughter of a king. "Of course he came." The elf told the werecat, "He's your father. Now, what's your name?"

The young werecat tilted her fuzzy head to one side and considered her with a fathomless expression. Finally, she whispered, _"Seramyl."_

Arya smiled at her. "That's a lovely name."

"_Thank you. Will my mother be waiting for me at this… Var-ban?"_

"Who can say? Perhaps she _will_ be waiting at the Varden." Eragon laughed, lifting Seramyl from his cloak and placing her on a tree stump. "But for now, what would you like to eat?"

Seramyl's large golden eyes widened a fraction, and without warning, her form shivered down her entire length, and a tiny, seemingly human excepting for her pointed teeth and feline eyes, girl was left in her place. "S-something to _eat_?" she squeakily breathed as if she could barely believe that she had been offered food, "I haven't eaten since…" Her little face, framed by dark shaggy hair, darkened. "The bad men… they never let me eat. And they… they… Do you have any milk?"

Helplessly, Eragon glanced at Arya, and she looked back at him blankly. But inwardly, she sighed. It was going to be a long trip.

* * *

From the air, it was clear to Eragon, Arya, and Saphira that the Varden was only a day or two from the stark walls of Belatona. The elf's gut clenched painfully at the thought of the upcoming battle, and she turned her head slightly so she wouldn't have to look at the city.

But she almost fell off of Saphira with laughing when she peeked around Eragon's body and caught sight of Seramyl. The kitten was clinging to the saddle for dear life with needle-filled paws, back arched, eyes wide, and ears pinned flat against her head. She and Eragon had played with her earlier, dancing a bit of string in front of her and laughing as she had swatted at it. Indulging in something so… youthful, had for a brief time eased some of the worries from Arya's heavy heart. She had laughed unfettered and had smiled without fear and anger pulling down the corners of her mouth. She had bantered with Saphira with a light heart, had listened to Eragon tell her amusing stories from his human youth, and had played children's games with Seramyl (when the child wasn't sleeping). Arya guessed that this was the attraction of flying; she was free to do and be whatever and whoever she wished to.

A headsplitting roar shattered the thin air Saphira glided through. Seramyl, terrified, cannoned herself into Eragon's stomach, and Arya heard his breath leave him with a _whoosh_. As it turned out, the source of the noise was none other than Thorn, who shot towards them roaring happily and jetting small flames around his head in celebration of their return. Atop Saphira's back, Arya could feel the dragon laughing at her counterpart's antics, and the tense coils of her muscles working as she corkscrewed and flipped through the air in an admittedly impressive display of aerial acrobatics.

Then Thorn joined her, and Saphira's three passengers were reduced to clinging onto the saddle for dear life as each dragon attempted to one-up the other.

"_Saphira…"_ Arya called out to the dragon weakly, a wave of nausea consuming her, _"Saphira, please let us off. You may continue this later…"_

"_Oh very well Little One."_ The sapphire dragon grumbled unhappily before leveling out. In front of her, Arya could feel Eragon's breathless laughter as well as Seramyl's trembling. With a distinct _boom_, Saphira landed unnecessarily roughly in the space Nasuada always kept clear for her amid a small crowd of glowing onlookers. Shakily, Arya gathered the silky form of Seramyl into her arms and eased herself over Saphira's side. The world spun around her, forcing the elf to squeeze her eyes tightly shut.

"Oh…" the werecat child groaned from her place in Arya's arms, flipping into her human form so she could speak aloud, her tiny, squeaky voice with its childish lisp rather faint.

Brightly, Eragon sprang to the ground unfazed, still laughing. "Don't worry Arya, you'll get used to it!" he chortled, brushing his cornsilk hair from his face.

"I d-don't plan to." The elf woman gasped, jade eyes wide.

Saphira gazed at her with contempt. _"So many things never go according to plan…"_ she warned, before tilting her head skywards to where Thorn was still circling; _"Now if you'll excuse me, I wish to fly with Thorn."_ True to her word, the dragoness leapt away from them and into the clouds, roaring playfully and tackling the other dragon with the blunt outer edges of her furled claws.

With a sigh, Eragon turned back to Arya and smiled at her. "And how did _you_ like the flight?" he asked of Seramyl, who was still tucked in Arya's arms. He tickled the little werecat until she giggled and squirmed.

"Shadeslayers! You've returned!" a glib voice called out, and the elf and rider both turned to the sight of the elven guards, twelve for Eragon, three for Arya, jogging out from between the tents. Blodhgarm was the one who had greeted them, and his eyes widened as he caught sight of Seramyl. "Is that…"

Viciously, the werecat hissed at the elf, shimmering back into her feline form once more, tawny eyes bugging as she bared her tiny fangs.

"Hush, Seramyl. He's a friend. He shan't harm you." Arya murmured to the kitten soothingly, stroking her fur. The werecat lowered her lip back over her sharp little teeth, but her fur still stuck up all over her body like a sheep's wool and she never took her wary eyes off of the elf's admittedly canine form.

"_I don't like the dog-man."_ Seramyl bluntly informed the elf woman that held her.

Blodhgarm, for his part, appeared faintly disgusted by the feline Arya cradled. But he quickly overcame this and inquired suavely of Eragon, "Would you like us to escort you to Lady Nasuada?"

The rider nodded. He shot a grin at Arya, which she returned uncertainly. The last dragon egg was within their grasp.

* * *

The first sight that met Arya's eyes as she delicately toed her way into Nasuada's vermillion pavilion was that of Murtagh. She uttered no exclamation of surprise, but merely stared hat him blankly, sizing him up. And yet he didn't take his eyes off Nasuada (sitting in her highbacked chair) until Eragon as well entered the tent. He then shot them a tortured glance and closed his eyes, angled features locked tightly closed.

"Nasuada, what is the meaning of this?" Eragon asked quietly of his liegelord, turning warm brown eyes onto his half-brother curiously.

Nasuada smiled at them. "Eragon, Arya, I'm glad you succeeded on your mission. May I ask who it is you have with you?"

"I'd prefer it if you answered my question first."

But Murtagh intervened. "I _asked_ to be brought here." He snapped, "I _asked_ if I could speak with you before anyone else did. This is because I have a bone to pick with you _brother_."

Arya's face darkened as she scowled at the red rider. From what Eragon had told her of this man, it was unlike him to be so intentionally hurtful to others. She had been told that Murtagh was really quite kind at heart. Even so, it would be trying to her patience if Murtagh continued to be rude to Eragon.

"Proceed." Eragon sighed, appearing genuinely troubled.

"You _told_ me it was possible, but difficult." The man began heavily, "My true name would _not _be easy to change, you said, but that it was possible! And when Thorn let go of his anger… I thought that maybe for _once_ in my _life_ the gods above would have mercy on me and I would be _free_! But I am still the same man; the same _slave_! I am _still_ treated as a worthless traitor, and that is _still_ all I am. No one can help me in my venture, and no one tries. Were it not for Thorn, you'd have my head right now!"

This was enough for Arya. Shoving a wide-eyed Seramyl into Eragon's chest she rounded on Murtagh and cried out in a quavering voice, "Do you have _any _idea what your 'death' did to him? To Nasuada? To Saphira? Even to _me_?" Shocked silence filled the pavilion, as she was normally so controlled and averse to such outbursts, but the elf woman didn't care. "Eragon," she gestured at him, "he could barely handle to hear your name being spoken for _months_! He mourned for you as a brother despite not knowing this was true! Nasuada lost someone who she considered a friend even after she had already lost so much! Saphira lost one of the few true companions she had known during her short life! And I felt like the most miserable failure; the most miserable excuse for an elf that had ever lived, for I couldn't even find the _body_ of the man who had risked so much on my behalf! You _cannot_ claim those present care not for you!"

"Then show it!" Murtagh bellowed, "Do not allow me to wallow in my prison under the 'delusion' that no one cares! If you _really_ cared you wouldn't rest until you'd helped me!"

Slowly, Eragon bowed his head. Looking Murtagh straight in the eyes, he said softly, "Alone? You're a dragon rider. You'll never _be_ alone. And on top of that, what Arya said is true. We _all_ care. None of us would ever abandon you to change who you are alone. You are not, were never, and never will be a worthless traitor. Accept that, and your battle is half-won."

Wordlessly, Murtagh rose to his feet. He still shook slightly with his anger, but he also appeared to be wrestling with it, as if he could pin it down within himself until it submitted to... what? "I… I shall think on what you have said. I… thank you." With that, the rider walked stiffly from the tent, everyone's eyes following his motion until he disappeared on the other side of the canvas. And for a few poignant moments, Arya looked at Eragon, Eragon looked at Nasuada, Nasuada looked at Seramyl, and Seramyl… Seramyl was squirming out of Eragon's arms and bolting towards the doorflap crying out, "_Arya! Erry-gone! It's my mother! And my father!"_

True to her word, four childlike figures filed into the pavilion, one of them tightly gathering Seramyl in her arms with a muted cry, two others watching impassively, and yet another held tucked beneath one arm an oval of the purest and brightest emerald. Arya's breath cought in her chest with the egg's beauty, as the deeper and lighter greens swirling about the its surface in an eternal dance spoke of soft, yet iron, majesty. The elf couldn't believe that she had almost forgotten the beauty of a dragon egg. Quietly, the werecat that Arya assumed was Seramyl's mother herded her jubilantly squeaking kitten to one side, and the werecat holding the dragon egg stepped forwards. "I know who _you_ are Shadeslayers. And I think you know who _I_ am."

Cocking her head to the side, Arya studied the werecat quietly, and her eyes alighted upon the hands that held tightly to him the dragon egg. One of them was missing its last two fingers. Expressionless, the elf stated blankly, "You are Grimmr Halfpaw, sovereign of the werecats."

He grinned toothily at her. "Indeed I am, Drottningu. And I thank both you and the rider Eragon for rescuing one of our own. As promised, we have retrieved the final dragon egg. It now belongs to you." Regally, Grimmr strutted over to Eragon and placed the gemlike object into his eager hands, and Arya looked on with a strange sense of pride. They had done it. Just like with Durza. Just like the return from Helgrind. Just like with Varoug. Together, they had succeeded where alone they may have very well failed. And now, there would be a new rider.

Eragon twisted his hand over his sternum in a gesture of respect to the werecat king. "Will you stay?" he asked simply, "Will you stay and fight with the Varden?"

Grimmr Halfpaw paused and considered the rider. "It depends." He said cryptically. "It depends on who asks."

"I do." Eragon raised his chin. "As the leader of the free dragon riders, _I_ ask. I ask that you fight at our sides and assist us in our battle to take the Black King from the throne; to remove from power the one that kidnapped, held hostage, and tortured your daughter."

Raising an arched eyebrow, the werecat stated, "And I accept."

Everyone voiced their agreement, and for a long while Nasuada and Grimmr haggled over details of their alliance. And while occasionally Arya offered her opinion, she was in actuality deep in thought. And her thoughts were revolving not around the imminent battle of Belatona, or even the War in its entirety. No, the elf woman was gazing ponderously at the emerald oval resting in Eragon's lap. That dragon egg was not only part of the future of Saphira's race; it was part of the future of the whole of Alagaesia. And its bonded partner would be the same.

Hesitatingly, Arya chanced a glance at Eragon's face and their eyes met. She wasn't the only one who wondered.

**_So... what did ya think? :) I myself am pretty dang excited for the green rider. And Belatona. That's coming up soon. Action-y goodness! *woot-woot!* But should Seramyl be a continuing character or not? I can't decide..._**

**_Replying to RestrainedFreedom...  
Aw thanks! I loved it too. :) 'Twas fun._**

**_Replying to Silver...  
I know... but I'm not doing anything else with Juniper. He was cute for a one-chapter-debut, but not for a prolonged tale. :/_**

**_Replying to FlexManSteel...  
Not just over a kitten, but the fact she was abused. It ticked her off. :P_**

**_Replying to Joe...  
Don't worry, sometimes I confuse myself! XD  
I'm glad Seramyl was such a surprise though, because I wanted to know good I am at keeping secrets. :)_**

**_Replying to Elvandiath...  
Never fear, one day I will post a crappy chapter, and you can tell me you hate it. :P_**

**_Replying to The Meepstah...  
Thanks for the feedback on Saphira's statue. I didn't know how cheesy it was or if it even made sense at all, so a blue cupcake for you! (Blue food coloring, not some alien substance, don't worry!)_**

**_Replying to Totally Random Solembum...  
Her name is Bob.  
(That's sarcasm, btw.)_**

**_Replying to chupacabrita...  
Hey I know you! You're someone's beta! (I don't remember exactly WHO at the moment...) I remember because I saw your pen name and thought of a goat-eating monster! XD  
I'm very glad you like it. (I do try.) :P Arya is my favorite and I'm always frustrated by CP's lack of personality, so I gave her one. Three cheers for snarky! (Last night my friend and I were doing an English accent [we're American, so a BAD English accent] and we figured out that it makes snarky comments sound so much more intelligent and valid! It was SO awesome!) But... I'm probably boring you, so I'll just go away now..._**

_Come on guys! 350! I believe in you! *hearts*_


	21. Black Mourning Glory

_This chapter is dedicated to the 350th reviewer, The Meepsta. She's really awesome guys. She reviews all of my chapters and writes a mean Arya POV herself, not to mention her intrinsic hilarity! (A big word? Oh yes. I'm smart.) So she is now promoted to Awesome, and gets complimentary banana bread because... SHE'S AWESOME! Three cheers and a woot-woot for our favorite Meepsta people! :D_

**_Hi, lovely readers! :)_**

**_I'm on vacation right now, which is why my internet is awful, which is why this chapter has no beta. It's muchos fun here though, because I'm visiting my cousin in Utah. You wouldn't BELIEVE the weather here! It's a fantastic 75 all day and then it drizzles in the afternoon! The rain makes everything smell fresh and clean, and the clouds are pretty thin so the sun shines through them in these lovely golden veins! And when the wind blows, you can smell wildflowers and pine trees. *jumps up and down clapping hands*_**

**_But back to this chapter. It's pretty short as chapters go, but it didn't need to be longer. (And before you ask, the poll has spoken. The green rider will be Arya. She doesn't become it in this chapter, but I'm setting the foundation.) This is more a dialogue chapter than anything, and the idea behind it was originally intended as a oneshot. But I felt before the massive, insane chapter that's going to be Belatona (next one btw guys) we needed a little relationship building before we took the plunge, no? I'm pretty scared of putting this particular one out there, because it has so much emotion. (My mom's yelling at me to stop chewing my lip.) But I hope I did good! *nervous shifting*_**

* * *

The numbers, the numbers. They never did add up perfectly. Frustrated, Arya shot the parchment on the table in front of her a venomous glare before setting it aside. The numbers could wait, because it wouldn't serve her purpose well if she tore up the paper that carried them. She wasn't herself today; not filled with her inner turmoil that seemed determined to boil to the surface. Today in particular. She had awoken this morning glad. She had been glad that it appeared the Varden was strong enough to take on Belatona when they reached it; glad that the last dragon egg was being presented to children of the Varden at the very moment; glad that every day, more and more werecats seemed to be appearing within the encampment, ready to fight. She had been glad of every life that existed around her. But then… then the elf had recalled this day, and what horrors it had held in the past. Now she couldn't bring herself to feel something so superficial and petty as _glad_.

"Luinae." Arya called softly as she ducked out of her oppressive tent. On her word, the dark-haired elf seemed to melt from the air to stand before her. "Luinae, I wish to go on a walk. And I wish to be alone."

The younger elf appeared as if she might protest, but something in Arya's voice taught her better than that. "Of course." She ceded, dipping her head.

Nodding in gratitude, Arya turned and began to weave slowly through the assembled tents of the Varden, facing away from the imposing blight on the horizon that was Belatona. Instead, she ambled towards the rolling, grassy hills over which they had come. As she walked, straight-backed and poised, humans, Urgals, dwarves, and elves alike never strayed into the path of the elven ambassador. For once, Arya was grateful for her aloof behavior, as it allowed her to carry on in peace.

Soon, she had left any crowds behind, and she walked among the knee-length grass with no audience. The plains around her stirred in oceanic waves with each kiss of the breeze, but Arya took no notice. Mind still forced into blankness, the elf woman crested a particularly tall mound and made as if to continue uninterrupted, but stopped, staring at her feet. Wildflowers grew unchecked here, and there was one in particular her eyes were suddenly drawn to. And once she had gazed upon that flower, Arya couldn't bring herself to move away from it, sitting down where she stood and staring at it with a clenched jaw. She didn't mind the fact that she was probably missing some 'important' meeting at the moment, for she did not desire the company of _any_ creature right now, benevolent or otherwise. The only person she wanted to be with right now was _dead_, two years ago to the very day. Meditatively, she gently ran the sensitive tips of her fingers over the soft petals of the flower she had found growing on this secluded hillside. It was a wild Black Morning Glory.

For two years, she had survived without Faolin by her side, a feat that seemed quite impressive to her from where she sat. Two years ago, she could never have fathomed an existence for herself that he was not a part of, and so she had been forced to make one up as she had gone along. Without him, many of the little things that had once filled her with quiet happiness seemed unbearably hollow, and her naturally reserved nature morphed into one that was more melancholy. Remembrance, while comforting, had become her enemy as of late. She remembered with excruciating clarity all of those long, long hours in Gil'ead... when she had known that no one would have guessed what had happened to her, and that a rescuer was certainly never to come; known that her companion in all things had been torn from her, and that she was powerless to avenge both him, and herself. Remembering… she could hardly bear it.

Indeed, her memory was something that plagued her mercilessly. But it also kept her sane. Arya knew for what blessings she should be grateful for, and towards what beings she should direct her burning hatred.

Her sanity she retained, but this did not affect her happiness.

Tears brimmed to the surface of her forest green eyes as she remembered, well, everything. The happy, the sad, the agonizing, the soothing; these memories worked their way through a mind usually so carefully guarded against emotion, wreaking havoc. But these tears Arya did not allow to fall. She was not a child to be coddled from her sorrow. She was Arya Drottningu Shadeslayer, and she would _not_ allow herself such weakness.

"Saphira told me I might find you here."

The elf's shoulders tensed and her entire body went rigid. The voice was kind and quiet enough to only belong to one person. "What do you want, Eragon?" she asked coldly, not even turning around. She was in no mood to deal with the rider in her present state, which was in stark contrast to how she had awoken.

Feeling, rather than seeing his frown, Arya experienced a small pang of remorse. It wasn't Eragon's fault that he wasn't Faolin. Goodness knows he had tried. "I apologize, Shadeslayer." she sighed shakily, "I just..." Shaking her head, the elf declined to complete this thought aloud.

"Do you know what day it is, Arya?" Eragon asked of her softly, in a voice that a more focused Arya might have accused of being slightly too familiar. But these few words alone were enough to knock the breath out of her slender ribcage with a hiss from between her clenched teeth. To his credit, the rider did not comment on this rather extreme reaction, but continued on mercilessly, "It is the day that the bravest person I know proved to the entire world that Galbatorix _could_ be defeated. She displayed courage that would leave the greatest of every race's warriors cowering in submission." His features softened as she turned to look at him incredulously. "It is the day that everything I knew ended, and everything I now know began. I owe all of the happiness in my world to her. This person, she didn't know that then. I doubt she truly appreciates this fact even now. Hence my words." With lithe grace bespeaking of the elves, Eragon settled down at her side and considered the black Morning Glory that Arya's fingers still rested on. He as well brushed its deep violet petals with surprising gentleness, but his warm chocolate eyes captivated her own as he framed his words deliberately. "I admire no one more than her, because she embodies everything that I wish to see in myself. Courage, cleverness, a sense of duty, and kindness. I owe to her everything I am, and everything I will be. As does all of Alagaesia. This person, this one that is the greatest treasure of my heart as well as Saphira's; she is you, Arya."

The elf woman blinked, her expressive jade eyes becoming suspiciously bright as she felt... she didn't even know. Flattered? Misunderstood? Angry? Agonized? There weren't words to quite identify the reason for the pounding of her heart or the trembling of her slight frame. Eragon's speech had been delivered in a similar tone to when he had attempted to win her hand, but now he hadn't implied any such thing. Rather, he had bared what he thought was the truth before her. What he had just told her... she did not entirely agree with. Arya was not the savior of Alagaesia. Eragon was. But she could not really object to his being grateful to her, and she could not find it within her to be irritated at him either.

"I... I don't think... You have no cause to be that grateful. My actions were inadvertent, at best. And I..." she hesitated, "I am not so wonderful as you make me out to be."

Eragon's steady, tender gaze was disconcerting. "It is my privilege to hold my own opinions, Arya, and you yours." A mischievous half-smile tugged on his lips. "But in this case, I know myself to be right, and you to be misguided."

Once again, Arya blinked. But this time, she was unable to hold her tears within herself and she let them fall. Playful expression gone, Eragon tucked a stray strand of inky hair behind one of her pointed ears and murmured soothingly, "Never hesitate to cry, Arya."

For a moment, Arya considered him. Then, she surprised even herself by embracing the rider and burying her head in his shoulder. Wordlessly, he held her as she wept, and for a very, very long while, they remained this way on the side of the hill. The elf cried not for herself, but for Faolin, Glenwing, and all those she had lost. Yet she also cried for those still living, because there were things worse than death in a land rife with war and suffering.

And even after her tears began to recede somewhat, Arya didn't make to leave the rider's arms. His presence was strangely comforting to her. She wasn't afraid to cry in front of him. Not anymore. And she wasn't afraid to be herself when in his presence. It was faintly astonishing to her how much she had missed having someone like that in her life without realizing she did. And remarkably, the elf woman felt _glad_ that Eragon had come to her. She felt _glad_ that she knew him, and honored that she was his friend.

"Better?" said friend asked, pulling Arya away from him so that he could see her face.

The elf gave him a watery smile. "Thank you, Eragon." She told him softly, "I… I haven't been able to mourn freely since…" Troubled, she didn't finish, and closed her eyes.

"I'm glad you're able to do so now." The man told her huskily, giving her a little squeeze.

Hesitatingly, Arya returned the gesture. "And you?" she asked quietly, "When do _you_ mourn for those who have died?"

"Every day." He responded, "In one small way or another. I respect their lives by living mine as best I can. For now, it's all I _can_ do."

"That is… that is wise of you." The elf woman sighed lightly then. "A hundred years and I cannot bring myself to do this."

Eragon laughed. "That's because you're thinking like an elf." He informed her, "Other species know a few tricks as well."

"Such as drinking until consciousness is lost?" she offered slyly, words forming a bit shakily as her breathing returned from deep and desperate towards normalcy.

"Exactly." The rider confirmed, "As well as bathing as little as possible until a state of absolute repugnance is reached." The pair laughed a little at that, and Arya began to feel more lighthearted despite herself. Suddenly, Eragon paused and tilted his head to the side. "Saphira comes from Nasuada. She claims we shall be marching on Belatona soon. But in the meantime, how would you like to go flying?"

The elf nodded, and the rider stood and hoisted her to her feet. Together, Eragon's arm firm about Arya's shoulders, they walked down the hillside, away from the fragile silhouette of the solitary Black Morning Glory.

* * *

**_Was that good? I tried really hard to get it right! *panics*_**

**_Replying to Writer of the North...  
All right! I'll throw our favorite kitten in there soon then, shall I? :P_**

**_Replying to Silver...  
I certainly hope she got her milk! O.o_**

**_Replying to Durxa...  
There. Are you happy? *laughs evilly* I HAVE THE POWER to say hi or not! Muahahahahaha!_**

**_Replying to Twilightmoonstar...  
I'll see what I can do with the werecats. Maybe not next chapter, but possibly after that. :)_**

**_Replying to dunlace...  
There is actually a plan to free Murty very soon, but you're right, it won't be stereotypical. *conspiratorial palm rub*_**

**_Replying to Draco Lucis...  
I had a poll up on my profile page for a while there, and Arya beat out everyone else by about 30%. She wouldn't have been my first choice, but I write for you lovely people, and you lovely people have chosen! :)_**

**_Replying to Flavio S...  
I hope you'll keep reading, even though the poll chose Arya as the green rider. I completely understand your argument, and I value your opinion. *hopeful face*_**

**_Replying to Korkman2...  
Oh I suppose I didn't clarify that. His guard was with him I promise! They protected him from the Varden and the Varden from him, so it was all good! :)_**

**_Replying to justmeagain123...  
Maybe I should buy a theater and do a little dance too! XD (Just kidding, I'm a terrible dancer! Too clumsy!)_**

**_Replying to chupacabrita...  
Oooh! Oooh! I know her! I know her! She wrote that insanely epic fic called... Eldunari? I don't think she's read this though, so I'm going to move on to the YES! THANK YOU for feeling the non-weird love for Arya because you WAY wish you were that cool! I think there should be like, a ray gun or something that just zaps you into awesome. That'd be... well... awesome. :P_**

_The review number is currently 360. That's a full circle! So let's blow that number with a bang, shall we? :)_


	22. To Live and To Love

**_Greetings, all! I think I may have updated somewhat on time! *wild applause from the one guy that showed up as he foams at the mouth and passes out*_**

******_So... Belatona! Action-y chapter! Hooray! :D_**

**And we are SO close to the 400 review mark! *jumps up and down happily* Now, who wants that dedication? YOU do! So review! :)**

**_I don't have much else to say about this chapter really... *shock* (I know! I might actually shut up and let you read the chapter!) So please enjoy and have a cupcake!_**

* * *

The eve before a battle was _nearly_ as bad as the battle itself, Arya mused. In every battle that she had been able to anticipate, this was the case. And she had lived to see many. _Cease wasting time like a miserable old fool._ She scolded herself, and redoubled her attentions back onto her current conversation.

For two days, she had spent the majority of her free moments in Murtagh's tent. Her own encounter with strong emotions had made her think back to what the rider had told her in Nasuada's tent, and she deeply regretted her fiery reaction to them. Once she had reached this conclusion, she had raced to his guarded dwelling to offer her assistance in an effort to redress. Much to her relief, he had, after a suspicious glance, accepted. They had begun with simple meditation. Arya had instructed him on various manners in which to calm his mind and free his thoughts, and it had seemed to work fairly well. She had even gone so far as to spout a short tutelage on using meditation to control anger, even though this had, ironically, made him angry. As she recalled, Murtagh claimed that, unlike Thorn, he didn't want to let go of his anger. Rather, he was determined to learn to take true joy in living again. He didn't want to simply _exist_ any longer again, he had told her. He wanted to _live_. And it was this they now discussed.

A breath of cool air fluttered around Arya's extremities as the sudden entrance of another into the tent interrupted her and Murtagh's words. She frowned at the intrusion. If the flow of discussion continued to be broken by visitors, how was she to fully redeem her miserable treatment of the red rider?

"Greetings Murtagh, Arya." A low voice chimed, and the elf woman groaned inwardly. It was, of course, Eragon.

"Did you need something?" Murtagh asked suavely, showing no signs that he had just been concentrating deeply on his inner self.

The blue rider nodded. "Actually, Thorn sent me." He amended, "He requested that I attempt to enter your mind and guide you through the process that it appears Arya has already started on. Would you be amenable to that?"

At Eragon's words, Murtagh's eyes had narrowed dangerously, and Arya flinched. She had heard of his resistance to mental probing in Farthen Dur. Nevertheless, he surprised her this time by swallowing his pride and, almost imperceptibly, nodding his assent. The elf considered him. Murtagh _would_ be able to change his true name. But a skilled hand would be required to guide him through the process.

With a flick of her thoughts, Arya cautiously mentioned to Eragon, "_Eragon… are you sure you can do this? It's a complex and delicate process, guiding someone to change, and I'm not—"_

_ "Do not insult me, Arya."_ The man abruptly cut her off, and their eyes met. His expression was fierce and determined. _"Do not insult my awareness, nor my sense of responsibility. You constantly remind me that you are not a helpless human female. But now it seems I must remind _you_ that _I_ am not an ignorant fool. I know exactly how hard this will be. And I know I can do it."_

Arya flinched both visibly and mentally while heart flew to her throat and her eyes widened. She hadn't intended insult, but the tone of Eragon's voice made her suspect that this wasn't the first time he had interpreted her words this way. The thought was mortifying. Just as she prepared herself to respond, Eragon turned his attention from her and onto Murtagh, who had been glancing back and forth between the two of them curiously, sensing the tension.

With the utmost delicacy, Eragon slipped through Murtagh's lowered mental defenses and entered his mind. Through a slight mental link, Arya could feel him sifting through Murtagh's thoughts, but she monitored the process only loosely. Her gaze was riveted on the frown of concentration on Eragon's face, aching that she had been so inadvertently rude.

_Why should you care?_ A part of her argued, _What if he does more harm to Murtagh than good?_

Arya shook her head. _I don't believe that._

_Why not? _The snide little voice retorted, _He's just a boy._

_He's my friend. I am ashamed that I have hurt him._ Came the solemn response.

The bellicose part of her was silent for a moment, and the elf almost thought it gone. But it responded slyly, _Ashamed? Or guilty?_

Arya had no answer to this however, and refocused on what Eragon was doing. Currently, he was burrowing through Murtagh's memories, occasionally plucking one from the farrago and bringing it out for the both of them to see. They were memories of times that he had been truly happy. Arya thought to comment on this method, but then stopped herself. She was out of place here. Murtagh had accepted her offer of assistance, but she had an uncanny feeling that this was something that the two brothers should overcome together.

The elf then stood from her place on a small stool and brought her head close to Eragon's, "Come to me before the battle?" Arya whispered into his ear, lest her voice disturb Murtagh's concentration. Eragon gave a slight nod, still focused. Yet for a reason unfathomable to her, Arya still smiled at him, despite his inattention, before she ducked gracefully out of the tent.

* * *

The Varden was a vast mob of organized chaos. Urgals, dwarves, humans, elves, werecats, horses, and dragons were all making noise at once. It made Arya want to claw out her ears in a frenzy, but she did not. She barely blinked as she stared out to Belatona from her perch on a centrally located knoll. It was a fairly large city; larger than Feinster, but she knew they would take it all the same. Her eyes narrowed at the men she could see swarming about the outer wall, readying their ballistae. All around her, the Varden were readying themselves as well. A grating cacophony of stone on steel had struck up hours ago and would continue until the moment of attack. Horses were being saddled, armor was being donned, and various members of Du Vrangr Gata were creating rudimentary wards about soldiers that they were assigned to protect. It was as if Arya, her unnamed blade resting across her leather-clad lap, was a stone in a rushing river of motion.

"Drottningu, we are ready. Your orders?" Kayla, one of the elven commanders, walked up behind Arya and spoke clearly and concisely.

The green-eyed elf woman paused and considered. "Have ten of your elves work within Du Gata Vrangr," Arya purposely 'misspoke' on the name. "and ensure it is still properly organized and rallied. But make sure they don't reveal to many secrets or cross with its head, Trianna." She waited for Kayla's answering nod, and when she received it, carried on, "Then, divide yourselves as you see fit amongst both the ranks of the Varden as well as around Nasuada and Orrin. Enemy spellcasters should be flushed out immediately and without pause. Once this has been accomplished, you should devote yourselves equally to aiding our side magically as well as with your arrows and blades."

Kayla blinked thoughtfully, pale blue eyes distant, then startled Arya by twisting her hand over her sternum in a gesture of respect and loyalty. "We shall do as you have suggested, Arya Svit-kona." She stated warmly, before taking off back to the main body of her troops.

"I'd say you impressed her." Came a mild comment from Arya's side.

"I see you came, Shadeslayer." The elf murmured, still gazing out at the city.

The man laughed lightly. "How would you know if you aren't looking at me, Shadeslayer? I could be in Nasuada's tent right now and you could be imagining my presence here!"

Arya looked at him and raised an arched eyebrow. "You're still here." She noted dryly, suppressing the urge to laugh.

Softly, the rider pinched himself. "Yes, I suppose I am." He agreed, sitting cross-legged at her side with a crooked half-smile. "We'll test that afterwards as well, and see what we find, all right?"

Arya didn't dignify that with a response, but continued to glare pensively ahead of her. The combination of the imminent battle and the fact that she still felt poorly over how Eragon had reacted to her was making her faintly miserable, and she lacked the inclination to speak, preferring instead to muse silently. Her mother had always told her that this tendency was an unattractive one.

"Was there a particular reason you asked my presence?" Eragon asked quietly, standing tall and eying Belatona as well.

With a small sigh, Arya averted her eyes from the city and focused on her hands that were folded neatly in her lap. "I wanted to apologize to you." She admitted, "It was never my intention to cause offence. I… I…" Her rehearsed reply suddenly seemed to desert her. "I'm sorry." Came her eventual whisper, fighting against her own distress.

With a rustle of clothing and chain mail, Eragon settled beside her. "The blame lies with me. I was upset over something that occurred earlier, and I spoke harshly. You have nothing to apologize for." He explained in the hushed tones the entire Varden seemed to be using.

But Arya shook her head vehemently. "That does not excuse the fact that I lost faith!" she hissed, "I doubted your abilities, and I shall not tolerate this from myself. My actions were inexcusable." Her words were greeted with tentative quiet. The elf woman took in a breath and finally looked directly into the rider's face, which betrayed the fact that he was endearingly puzzled. "I _do_ believe in you, Eragon. Never forget that." She told him fiercely.

Seeming faintly stunned, the rider blinked, and Arya looked away again, the pointed tips of her ears flushing pink at her own forwardness. For a moment, it seemed as if she would remain that way indefinitely, but a flash of color soon caught her eye, and the elf noted Thorn and Saphira on the outskirts of the encampment. They appeared to have split Saphira's dragon armor between them, and the patches of silver on their jeweled hides caught the light in strange ways. As Arya watched, the two dragons touched noses briefly, exchanging something between them, and then both took to the air and flew their separate ways, each a vision of majesty. It wouldn't be long, Arya reasoned, before the azure dragoness's steady wingbeats brought her to them. However, the elf was glad for that touch between them, for it seemed that perhaps Saphira had made that friend after all.

Turning back to Eragon with a smile, the elf noted he wore a strange expression on his face. But as if sensing her attention, the man shook it off distractedly and grinned sheepishly. "Saphira." He explained briefly, "It's difficult, sometimes, to hold her emotions in check within myself."

Understanding, Arya nodded. Dragons, riders. Riders, dragons. They were the same, and yet so different. It didn't truly make sense to her, but then again, she was merely an elf; Arya wasn't a rider.

"_Greetings, Little One and Little One."_ Saphira laughed as she landed, sending the humans nearby scrambling to give her room and even the elven guards moving quickly.

"Hello Saphira." Arya answered cordially, but with genuine warmth. "I'm glad to see you."

The dragon seemed startled. "_And I as well, Little One. And…" _Shifting slightly, she added, _"Murtagh and Thorn have asked me to relay their heartfelt gratitude. They would thank you for your assistance in person, but they were unsure that they would be able to speak with you before the fighting."_

Arya's heart leaped. "He… he did it?" she exclaimed, her face lighting up, "Murtagh's free?"

Nodding thoughtfully, Eragon mentioned softly, almost to himself, "The Black King battles with hate as his ally. And hate is not well countered with apathy. Would it not be fitting to enlist love on our side?"

It felt as if ice had been shot through Arya's veins. She _remembered_ those words. They had been spoken to her when she was in a fog of pain and herbs, but she remembered them nonetheless. "Is that what did it? What made him change so much his true name changed?" the elf asked quietly, an unidentifiable emotion bubbling up within her, "Love?"

"Yes." Eragon responded simply, tilting his head back and gazing up at the sky, "It was his memories of love, as well as his hopes of love, that caused Murtagh to realize there is more in this world than anger and violence. It gives him a completely new reason to fight and go on living. But this isn't so unusual. Love is what _I_ fight for." It was as if Arya's eyes were glued to the rider's face. He fought for love. Arya wasn't sure what she fought for anymore, and suddenly she wanted to hear every word the rider would say. Picking up on her intent gaze, Eragon turned to her and gave her a crooked little smile. "I fight for the right to love, as well as to be loved." He explained, "I fight for those I love, and those who love me. They're my family. It doesn't matter if they are my family by blood or not. We can pick our _own_ family, and we fight for _them_."

Stomach still churning with the select cocktail of feelings she couldn't identify, Arya attempted to avert her eyes from Eragon's, but found she could not. Still and unmovable as stone, she simply sat there, chin tucked up on her knees and raven's wing tresses tickling her face with the breeze. She knew it was childish, but more than anything in the world at that moment, she hoped that she had been granted a part in Eragon's 'family'. And Arya, for the life of her, couldn't rationalize as to why.

* * *

Arya couldn't determine whether or not the fine mist of red that was forming about her was a result of her skewed senses or the blood her sword drew from her enemies. Perhaps both.

They were a mere few hours into the fighting, but already, it was clear the Varden were to be given an easy victory. Humans, elves, Urgals, dwarves, werecats, and dragons surged through the blood-slicked streets in a roaring tide that would not be stopped, while the green, untrained troops defending Belatona scuttled here and there in blinks of silver. The few hardened soldiers of the Empire that _had_ been deployed in defense of Belatona had either fought and died or fallen back to the keep tower, where Nexeus, the governor, had hidden himself. Blood rained from the sky as Thorn, with Murtagh atop his back, scooped up enemy fighters in his claws and tore them apart midair. What was left of their comrades dropping grotesquely on top of their trembling shields, it was no wonder the men of Belatona were losing their nerve. Many of them had already surrendered.

"Drottningu! Ballistae!" Luinae suddenly called out from Arya's side, and the elven princess turned towards the keep tower with a snarl. Sure enough, the soldiers there had hauled up catapults and massive crossbows, and were preparing them to fire upon any members of the Varden that drew close through a wall they had knocked out of one of the top floors. Thorn and Saphira had both seen this as well, but neither could hope to do any damage to the weapons without exposing their bellies to attack.

Arched eyebrows drawing together in a sharp V, the elf woman quickly sorted through courses of action within herself. But only one of these struck her as particularly effective. Slicing through the last of her immediate assailants, Arya gestured for her guards to follow and ducked into a narrow alley.

Himnaur was looking about him nervously, not fond of the imposing walls crushing in on either side of them. "Must we have come down here, Drottningu?" he asked in an unusually high-pitched voice.

"And what of the ballistae? Surely we can help!" Celebel threw in, sweeping aside her silvery hair with impatience.

"Yes. We _can_ help." Came Arya's hushed response, "Now, this is what we're going to do…"

* * *

The steady drain on her energy was enough to give her a headache, but not so much as to make her incapable. As she bolted through the streets at top speed, weaving her way in and out of small and large skirmishes, Arya never took her eyes off of her target. Nor, she assumed, did her three guards. All four of the elves were 'invisible'. In reality, they had used a simple spell to bend light so that their outlines appeared blurred, and they were little more than smoky smudges. When they ran, human eyes were too slow to track them. In this manner, they were able to run right up to the base of the tower and crouch in some bushes without being spotted.

Gasping, Arya released her hold on the spell, bracing herself against the pearly grey stone (unique to the area) of the keep tower. One by one, her guards and companions faded into existence in the bushes beside her and did the same. Celebel leaned her forehead against the cool stones, eyes closed, while Himnaur just appeared even more serious than usual. Tracing the swirls of the tower wall with a fingertip, Luinae seemed to be attempting to stave off nausea.

After taking a few moments to steady her breathing, Arya spoke lowly, avoiding a carrying whisper, "Ready? I want two of us in front and the other two behind guarding the first two as they move."

The elves nodded sharply, pulling themselves together instantly. Arya prepared to then spring from cover and slip through a small servant's door when a ragtag group of fifteen to twenty soldiers clumped by and the elf woman ducked back down with a hiss. But eventually, after much shouting about the positions of the advancing Varden and their terrors of dragons, they passed and she eased her black-clad form from her place of concealment. Delicately, Arya toed open the servant's door and peeked inside, Himnaur taking his place by her side and the others behind her.

Thankfully, the dark corridor seemed to be deserted, and they loped along it unmolested. In fact, they didn't encounter a single soul until they reached the servants' stairs, which were narrow, cramped, and dark. Huddled at the foot of these was a chambermaid. When she saw the four elves approaching, the girl let out a terrified squeak and attempted to bolt away like a frightened rabbit, but Celebel caught her by the arm. "It would be safer for you if you stayed inside the servants' quarters. None in the Varden means the citizens of Belatona harm, but you would not want to catch a stray arrow."

Trembling, the girl nodded vigorously, eyes practically bugging out of her skull. Celebel released her, and she sprinted away, presumably, to safety.

"Can I get you a cup of tea while you're at it, Celebel?" hissed Himnaur impatiently, inching up the stairs.

The elf scowled at her tormentor, but didn't say anything else as Arya shot the pair of them a severe glance. The shouts and noises of war from outside were growing louder, and they still had to reach the top floors.

As they bounded up the short stairs, they began to encounter more and more people. Only now, they were not harmless chambermaids, but soldiers. Many times, Arya, Himnaur, Celebel, and Luinae were able to sneak past them without being seen. But just as often, they were forced to quietly slaughter those who had seen them. Then finally, finally, they reached the level below the one they desired to sabotage.

"Time to disappear again." Arya turned to her companions. "Go in, disable the ballistae, and get out. Only reveal yourself if absolutely necessary. There are far too many soldiers for us to defeat on our own. Understand?"

"Yes." They chorused, and for a ridiculous moment, Arya felt rather like a human schoolmaster.

Nodding, the four elves muttered the spell Arya had taught them, and they all seemed to shimmer out of existence. Together, they crept up the last flight of stairs and onto the floor with the ballistae poised in the space a wall had once occupied. And it was at that point they separated. There had to be perhaps twenty machines of war aiming at the advancing Varden spaced along in a neat row, each manned by five or so soldiers, and it would require vast quantities of speed and skill to preclude their own deaths, not to mention those of the Varden raging below.

Dropping down towards the ground, Arya began to scoot towards her first target below the normal sightline of the soldiers. It was a medium-sized catapult already loaded and aimed. The soldiers surrounding it weren't saying much, being nervous and afraid, and Arya cursed the fact that their voices weren't present to disguise her noises of motion. There was nothing for it, but the elf woman sincerely wished there was. As silently as she could possibly muster, she slipped her knife from its sheath and extended her arm through the wooden structure.

"Brisingr." Arya whispered as an afterthought, and even though she couldn't see it, the elf could feel the faint heat radiating from the edges of the short blade. Swiftly, with inhuman strength powering the motion, Arya sliced through the supporting ropes of the catapult. One however, she left intact, pressing the smoldering edge of her knife to it instead so that it would destroy itself slowly, rather than snap and expose her tampering.

Arya had great success in her mission until the last war machine. She was about to destroy the last crossbow when someone cried out in pain, and a figure suddenly materialized on the floor not ten feet away, crushed under a beefy soldier who had apparently tripped over her, taking the entire catapult with him as well.

Cursing richly, Arya barked a few words in the ancient language and the huge crossbow beside her burst into spectacular emerald flames that roared several feet tall. All around her, the two other hidden elves mimicked her with any remaining long-range weapons, riling the soldiers into a panic. As fast as she was able, Arya jumped at the stunned man still sitting on Luinae. The elf had started to weakly cough up blood. "Waise hael!" she snapped after knifing the offending human in the chest and dragging him off of her young guard, as well as kicking the heavy wooden beams of the ballistae to one side. A wave of weariness washed over her as Luinae's cracked ribs began to heal, and the ambassador was forced to cancel her own concealment spell to avoid fatal weakness.

Unfortunately, this snapped a few of the soldiers back to their senses.

"Elves!" one roared angrily, "It's just a couple bloody elves!"

Horrified, Arya gazed around her, sword drawn. She didn't know where Himnaur and Celebel had gotten to amid the chaos, Luinae was still dribbling blood, and she herself was weakening. Crimson tunics accompanied by glittering steel encircled her, and Arya's heart was pounding in, yes, fear. She knew she had little chance of surviving the encounter she was about to have with the multitude of swords thirsting for her blood. But she held her chin high, jade eyes snapping defiantly. She wouldn't die without honor, or bloodshed for that matter.

Suddenly, a shout sounded from the direction of the stairwell, and several heads turned. Arya had no idea who had voiced out, but she didn't much care. Taking advantage of the situation, she leapt at the nearest fighter and decapitated him. Carrying on with the swing, Arya hit through the side of another. Left. Right. Uppercut. Sideswipe. Right. Downstroke. Parry. Stab. Dodge. Left. Uppercut. It was sickly like dancing. But Arya took special care never to stray far from where Luinae was shakily getting to her feet, sword in hand. The elf princess hadn't the energy available to heal her entirely, and there was probably still internal bleeding.

"Celebel! Himnaur! Are you here?" Arya cried out desperately, attempting to hold her position, but taking forced steps back despite her best efforts.

Two voices yelled out affirmatives from somewhere on the other side of the seething mob of vermillion, but the elf woman couldn't see them. "Stay down!" she hissed at Luinae, who had drawn her sword and held it in an impeccable position even while swaying on her feet.

"If you don't mind, I have a job to do." The elf gasped back. Her arms were trembling, but her voice and eyes held steel, and with a curse, Arya ceded to her, neatly eviscerating one man who came too close. There was shouting and blood _everywhere_. The elf could barely see open space where the wall had been knocked out through all of her attackers. But… _were_ they attackers? Suddenly, she was certain that there were patches of brown among the red, battling on her side.

"_Must_ you enter life and death situations in the keeps of _every_ city we capture Shadeslayer?" an exasperated voice sounded from Arya's side, and a flash of blued steel streaked across her field of vision.

A smile broke across the elf woman's face. "I see you didn't want to miss out on the action, Shadeslayer." She commented, dancing away from a javelin.

Laughter reached her ears. "Well, after a Shade or two, who can claim a mere fifty soldiers while on your own as _action_?"

* * *

**_Ta-da! *smiles happily*_**

**_Replying to Flavio S...  
Yeah, she wasn't my first choice. But I'll try to make the best of it and see what I can do for 'ya all right? :P_**

**_Replying to justmeagain123...  
All right, Murtagh's back! Is it cool yet? XD_**

**_Replying to ...  
Ok, I really tried to fix it. I'm sorry I failed so epically. :( Forgive me?_**

**_Replying to chaSing b0b...  
Hmm... You have given me many things to think about young grasshopper... *beardstroke* (I don't really have a beard, just to make that clear. This is a metaphorical beardstroke.)_**

**_Replying to Durxa...  
Yeah, that chapter gave me the warm fuzzies. :D And sorry about not PMing you, but for some reason my computer refuses to send stuff to you guys, and ONLY you guys. *facepalm* I wish I knew how to use my computer..._**

**_Replying to Writer of the North...  
Didn't he just sing that flower from a random seed? Couldn't it be found anywhere?_**

**_Replying to twilightmoonstar...  
I didn't think a hatchling would be very useful in a massive battle, so I'm saving that 'till after a few little things I have planned happen. *runs around in excitement* And I have some BIG plans for before/during/after as well! 8D_**

**_Replying to KuldrOroAurum...  
Just saying, I had to go back about four times to get your pen name right. As of right now, you are officially nicknamed KO because I will NOT be typing that out again. (gosh I'm so lazy) Thanks for your glowing review! It made me very happy. :)  
Don't worry, when the actual 4th book comes out, I'm planning on doing a 'real' Arya POV based off of that. My writing still isn't where I'd like it to be, so I'm going to need that new material. :/ But don't worry, I too am a sucker for EXA and I am slowly but surely building up to it! *claps hands happily*_**

**_Replying to chupacabrita...  
You can send it to me on my birthday! :D_**

**_Replying to 2thirty2...  
Now, I don't know if CRAZY is quite the word for me... how about demented? Deranged? Freakish? Nutty? (Crazy is my brother. I'm worse!) XD_**

**_Replying to Inkweaverabc...  
This chapter you plan... I want to read it! *hintUPDATEhint* (I'm impatient. Can you tell?) XD_**

_Rewards for 400 reviews = eternal love and cookies! Reward for reviews in general = eternal love and colorful stickers!_


	23. Behind the Snow

_This chapter is dedicated to the 400th reviewer, Hazelstar. Now, she is a new reader as of a few days ago, but I have no doubt that she (I'm guessing you're a she?) is completely awesome. Yes, all of you people who didn't review, I'm _talking to YOU_! If you reviewed, you might be as awesome as Hazelstar here! But, if you didn't review, you aren't. See how that works people? I promise it's not hard! :) Anywho, I think everyone should give Hazelstar a non-creepy hug and tell her how fantastic she is._

**_Guess what guys? I wrote a fluffy chapter. I think I'm getting pretty good at this! (Ha! Next chapter will be fun to write! No, it won't be fluffy. I have evil planned... *Muahahaha!*) :P_**

**On a random side note that has absolutely nothing to do with IAA whatsoever, I need a volunteer from the audience! So as you may or may not know, the whole point of this exorcise is to get SimplySupreme's horrible writing to a standard where she can write an original story without crashing and burning. I have a pathetic start to this, and I'd _really_ love it if one of you guys could look a bit of it over and let me bounce ideas off you. I don't really have anyone experienced-ish in writing fiction near me, so I'm begging you people! *begging face* I _need_ you! If you're interested, just PM or review or something pretty please with a cherry on top!**

_**I thought I'd point out something here. This fic is now on 60 people's favorites list. 60! *passes out* Have I ever mentioned how much I love you people? I love you people a lot! :D**_

_**(Now if only there could be a review from all those 60 people every chapter... *hinthint*) XD**_

* * *

For the first time in a very, very long while, Arya wore her hair down. Released from its usual restraining band, it tumbled freely down to her waist in an inky cascade of evening sky. She had even substituted her black leather top for a tunic of forest green, albeit it was cinched about a waist still clad in the uniform that was her trademark. Still, it was an unusual change for her, and Arya found that she was quite happy. But then again, her altered emotions weren't a direct result of her altered appearance, merely a physical expression of them.

Two weeks had passed since the Varden's victory over Belatona and the capture of Nexeus. After Arya's little adventure in the keep, the battle seemed to end within the smallest of time frames. The losses were less than anticipated, thankfully, and the elf had even managed to last a few of the following nights free of dreams of screams and carnage. Her mind hadn't been entirely emptied of the all-too-familiar images of the blood, gore, and charred, oozing flesh of the dead, but she had made significant progress in staving off the vast majority of the visions. This was most likely due to the fact that her relationships with the other elves were steadily improving, and being among her people once more was slowly healing her of a few of her scars. She would never be rid of the vast majority of them, but the lighter her burden, the more whole she felt within herself.

Currently, the armies of the Varden were settling themselves to bear out the worst of the winter storms within the relative safety of Belatona's walls, and a subtle air of celebration pervaded amongst the soldiers, assisted greatly by the never-ending parades of children led past the dragon egg. It hadn't hatched so far, and the elf hadn't even spoken with Eragon for days, but it seemed the general attitude that it wouldn't take long. There was, for the moment, little for any of them to do but wait. Arya couldn't decide what she felt about the situation, much less the prospect of waiting out much of the winter in Belatona. Notoriously impatient, part of her wished to charge on to Dras Leona despite any snow; another part of her enjoyed the brief interlude. It had given her time to be with people she was beginning to consider her friends: Nasuada, the other elves, and even Murtagh, who seemed to be adjusting to life in the Varden fairly well under the circumstances. Perhaps the biggest part in this acclimation was Nasuada. While never ceasing to work vigilantly over the Varden, the woman took special care, time, and effort to see to Murtagh's happiness. They ended up spending much of their time together, and from the red rider looked at the young woman, Arya suspected that she was the person Eragon had referred to as Murtagh's 'hopes of love'. The idea strangely pleased her. She was happy that they were happy, despite the fact that this left her feeling uncharacteristically hollow and lonely.

Currently, the elf woman was taking tea in her assigned quarters within the keep tower. But at the moment, she was quite alone. This didn't stop her from enjoying herself in the least. Sipping her tea, blackberry, the elf was gazing out her window to the heavy clouds above. At one point earlier, she had thought she saw Thorn and Saphira flying within them, but the sensory input was so brief she couldn't be sure. The sun was muted, and the light filtering down from the sky was thin and wan. From her alert perch on a cushion, Arya determined that the vast, billowing forms of the clouds were beautiful in their own way. Delicately, little flakes of snow began to dance from on high, each one pale little twinkles in a city slowly being drained of color. Eyes glittering, Arya followed their motion down to a small, usually deserted courtyard, where a lone figure paced restlessly. Frowning, the elf squinted at him. She could recognize the windswept head of thick chestnut hair below her from any distance. The only question remaining was: what was Eragon doing down in that courtyard alone, acting so strangely? But, Arya reasoned, if he was down there alone, he must want to _be_ alone. She could hardly see him either way. It was as if the entire world was hiding beneath a shimmering veil of snow.

"_Watching for birds, Arya?"_ a shrill voice brushed against her consciousness mischievously, lapping against her thoughts like mist.

"Seramyl!" the elf immediately responded, smiling. Gracefully, the little werecat with her overlarge paws dropped from atop a bookshelf (how she had gotten there, Arya had no idea) and settled into an impassive pose on the windowsill, eyes lidded. She seemed to be stony and unresponsive until Arya reached out playfully and tickled under her chin, causing her eyes to close and throat to emit a purr.

Put in a good mood, the kitten butted her head up against Arya's face affectionately. "_Have you spoken to Erry-gone this week Arya?" _she asked a little too innocently.

"I have not."

_"Then perhaps you should take today to do so."_ Seramyl advised, clearly attempting to imitate the mysterious manner of her people and meeting with limited success. _"I _was_ going to ask you to play with me, but I think that you are very important to him. Perhaps another time." _With that, she got up and pranced away towards the door, tail waving gracefully, leaving Arya gazing tersely down into the tiny courtyard. For a while, she continued to watch the man pace back and forth in obvious agitation, completely oblivious to the fact that it was snowing on him. Then, the tiny, lithe figure of Eragon stopped dead in his tracks and balled his fists, his entire body rigid, and Arya felt her chest tighten with acute distress and worry. Something wasn't quite right with his posture, and the surreal movements of his head. He seemed, if anything, dazed.

Indecision wracked her body, and she hardly dared blink. In truth, she had rather been avoiding the rider these past few days, because something about being near him made her strangely and infuriatingly uncomfortable. But _this_, she snapped at herself, was foolishness. Softly, Arya threw a thick cloak over her shoulders and poured a second cup of the blackberry tea. Calling to her guards where she was going, with instructions to stay where they were as she would be joining Eragon, the elf padded swiftly down the wide flight of flagstone stairs just down the short hallway her room was set on, steam curling from the cups in either hand. She passed few people, and those whom she did encounter stood respectfully to one side so as to make way for the elven ambassador. To each one, she made a brief, polite nod of acknowledgement, albeit never stopping. Turning on toe, she bumped open a narrow side door and slipped gracefully into the small, private courtyard.

The thin icing of pale snow crunched softly beneath the supple leather of her running boots as she took the few steps required across the walled-in space. Were she to look up four stories, she would be able to see the window she had recently stood before, but Arya did no such thing. Inquisitively, her emerald eyes trained on the seemingly distant man before her. Snow was catching on his dark eyelashes, melting into little bits of slush that he blinked away.

"Eragon." She murmured gently, and the rider seated on a nearby boulder nodded languidly in response, his eyes glazed. Frowning, Arya knelt on the wet ground beside him and placed the hot tea she had brought for him in his hands. "Is something wrong?" she whispered after a few minutes of pensive silence.

"Not wrong…" Eragon answered after a moment, his voice miles and miles away, "Nothing wrong…"

Worry still nagging at her, Arya took the rider's rough hand and squeezed it gently. "Eragon… Eragon something's… not right with you. What is it?"

Absently, the man took the hand that gripped his and traced circles into the back of it with warm fingertips. The elf considered yanking her hand away and berating him for such an action, but he didn't seem well, and although she would never admit it to anyone, the sensation was not unpleasant. "Not-not right with _me_," He said in a breathy, singsong tone, distant gaze fixated on the hand he held, "Saphira. And it isn't _wrong_, it's wonderful." After a moment, he added matter-of-factly, "I can't see straight."

His tone filled her with an improper and sudden desire to laugh, but the fact he had said something so odd in the first placed puzzled her. Arya was confused. What could possibly be affecting Saphira so much that Eragon appeared to be almost completely delirious? Carefully, the elf woman asked in steady tones, gripping Eragon's fingers tightly with her own, "Can you tell me what is… _wonderful_ with Saphira? What are you doing out here?"

For a moment, Eragon seemed to deliberate. But he appeared to deem Arya worthy of the knowledge and said hoarsely, "I'm here because it's cold. Cold makes it easier to be _me_. I am having difficulty separating… I _must_ control myself."

"And Saphira?" Arya prompted.

"She and Thorn are…" Eragon cleared his throat, giving her a rather elated look, "having a personal moment."

Arya's mouth dropped open and her vibrant eyes widened. "You mean…"

"Saphira has accepted Thorn as her mate, yes." Gasped the rider, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and shaking his head sharply in an attempt to clear it of whatever happened to be sifting through the link to his dragon.

At first, she just stood there, frozen in place by Eragon's side. But a glowing smile soon worked its way onto her face, and a growing tidal wave of startled joy threatened to sweep Arya off her feet. Saphira was happy; Thorn was happy, and it was now suddenly very possible for the race of dragons to continue and thrive. Swimming with jubilance after the fashion of her entire dragon-loving culture, the elf felt as if she was swiftly filling up with molten gold. Laughing, she leaped to her feet, dragging a surprised Eragon with her and embracing the rider in a fierce hug. She was glad to feel him respond ardently in kind. The warmth from his body took some of the bite from the frigid air, and the elf felt perfectly content in the action.

The snowflakes swirling in little eddies all around them seemed to also be on the brink of dancing, and they caught in Arya's loose hair like small stars. Unable to stop laughing, and not truly wanting to, the elf was absolutely breathless by the time Eragon, laughing as well, used the grip of their hug to lift her off her feet and jovially twirl her around. When she was set down again, her joy did not recede in the least. Gasping slightly for air and pink-cheeked, Arya let herself sit down rather roughly back on the ground, followed closely by Eragon, who seemed a bit more lucid now. She didn't bother to even attempt to tame the pearly grin still planted on her features, which was mirrored by the rider next to her.

Still slightly giddy, Arya turned her face up to the sky and started catching snowflakes in her mouth, letting them melt on her tongue. "How did it happen Eragon?" she asked brightly between flakes.

"Apparently, Thorn took Murtagh's new appreciation of love very seriously." The rider commented, "Saphira took his words very much to heart. Really, Thorn is surprisingly poetic."

Arya pressed her hand against her mouth then, her eyes dancing. She knew someone else who had a bit of a poetic flare.

"It would have been nice of him to give me a bit of warning though," Eragon continued, this time more irritably, "so I would have been able to pull away from Saphira a bit. Her emotions are… a bit overpowering."

Chuckling softly, Arya cupped his cheek with gentle fingers. "I'm sure you'll live." She informed him, brushing a stray strand of hair from his eyes, "You seem to be doing just fine so far."

He grinned at her, lively eyes dancing. "Admittedly not so well at the start. But sharing the problem seemed to help." Mouth twisting into a slight downward turn, Eragon added sadly, "I am very happy for them. But feeling as Saphira does… it is enough to make me feel a bit lonely."

Opening her mouth to speak, Arya quickly closed it again, giddiness draining away as she was at a loss for what to say. The truth was, she _did_ know what Eragon meant. She was feeling it at this very moment; the small part of her that looked at the jubilation of others and wished for what they had. They had the knowledge that everything they were was treasured and loved by someone that they treasured and loved just as much. They were safe in that feeling that there was at least one person that would never, ever sell them out for a price. But most importantly, they knew that a part of them would always be in the other's heart, forever residing in a place where nothing could touch it but death. Arya kept her part of Faolin with her, and would do so until she passed into the void. But the part of her that had died with him could only be resurrected with love. And she wasn't sure if anyone would ever love her again. Unbearably, she _did_ feel alone.

Clearly reading all, or at least most of, this in her eyes, Eragon put an arm around her and held her close to his side. And Arya let him. Perhaps during most of their friendship she would have been appalled at such contact. But somehow over all that time, the rider had morphed first from a boy turned rider, then into her friend and companion, and now again into something that the elf could only poorly interpret into words as _home_. She wasn't certain when this change had occurred; all she knew was that it had. What it meant, she didn't know. But Arya was content, for the moment at least, to huddle beneath her cloak with the man that meant so very much to her (still sporting a befuddled expression), sipping blackberry tea and reaching out their cold fingers to snatch snowflakes out of the air so they could admire each one's unique brand of perfection before they melted away into nothingness. It was funny how what they could see was now hidden behind the snow, and yet the loss of their eyes made it easier for them to see what truly mattered, even if they would never admit to it.

* * *

**Told ya it was fluffy. :) It's fun every once in a while to have fluffy, huh? But next chapter... lets just say it's a bit more intense, shall we_?_**

**_Replying to Totally Random Solembum...  
What flavor of creamer is it?_**

**_Replying to justmeagain123...  
Male: Sovren, Talden, Destidor, Allhade, Willhelm, Oswellar, Macesno, Vasin, Barough, Enlan, Belithas, Terpin, Percival.  
Female: Amela, Tesna, Esalba, Cholest, Gelene, Minnla, Aangie, Madelna, Lylianne, Hekima, Ophelia, Paisley, Nienae. Any help? :)  
And I know you've all been waiting FOREVER on Land of a Mad King, but I have writer's block on my writer's block weapon. :( How pathetically ironic is that?_**

**_Replying to RestrainedFreedom...  
Oh good! *relief* I'm afraid I'm the most insecure writer ever! *facepalm* I'm glad you liked how I fixed it. It was out of my comfort zone, but I found I rather liked it. :)  
Also, I think mega-kudos is pretty darn epic. I have to remember that term..._**

**_Replying to KO...  
You know, if you're looking for fantastic EXA-ish or generally awesome Inheritance fics, I have a few I'd reccommend to everyone. _By the Light of a Spark _by Collier World. _Child's Games _by Anonymousandunoriginal. _Eldunari _by wildskysong. _Fainting Robin_ by Erfquake. _Overcome_ by LOTRranger. _Self Defense _by schaferdramaqueen. And finally, _To Die For_ by Kelli99. They're all amazing and, in my opinion, are way better than this trash you just read. :)_**

**_Replying to Tolazytothinkofagoodname...  
I like lemon poppyseed cake. :) Tis my favoriteeee!_**

**_Replying to CP1064 and Massa...  
I'm glad you guys reviewed for the first times. It made me happy. :D_**

**_Replying to TeenMuggle...  
You should check out the stuff I recommended in KO's reply. They are _really_ good for the most part, whereas mine... not so much. XD_**

**_Replying to Inkweaverabc...  
I guess I wasn't so clear, but it _was_ a few days from the time Arya started working on him. :/ Ah well, everyone ended up winning in the end! :D_**

_Come on guys... how come I only got 14 reviews last chapter? Even if you just wanna say hi, I LOVE reviews deep in my soul! :(  
Don't you love me guys? Doesn't anyone want strawberry shortcake?  
I KNOW you can do better than 14 out of 500+ visitors... :( _


	24. Heart's Victory

_This chapter is dedicated to the 450th reviewer, Annonn. Now, Annonn is, again, a new reviewer. (I seem to have a lot of those lately. I hearts them all!) Besides being new, Annonn is insanely lucky, because THIS people, is the mother of ALL chapters!_

**Seriously. At the end, don't say I didn't tell you. It IS the mother of all chapters.**

IMPORTANT! (Are you reading? Good.) So, shameless advertising anyone? Just for you people, out of popular request, I have another Inheritance fic up. I've had about four people ask me to write it, so I did. That's right, SimplySupreme has now started Arya POV of her traumatizing little stay Gil'ead! I would love you all if you checked it out. :)

**_But back to this chapter. I am really, REALLY jazzed for this! Like, beyond belief. My wonderful beta had a harder time calming me down than actually beta-ing I think, because I was (and still am) slightly scared of my own chapter! I'm still really insecure about it, so I'm begging you PLEASE if you have ANY love for this fic, just drop a review. Even if you want to tell me it sucks! Because writing isn't worth it if you don't get any feedback, hmm?_**

**So, without further ado, allow me to present to you lovely, lovely readers whom I adore so much... The Mother of All Chapters! *nervous smile* :)**

* * *

The_ last_ thing Arya expected to see as she rounded the corner was some no-account human woman suddenly reaching up and kissing a very surprised Eragon full on the mouth. But then again, Arya wasn't known for her excellent clairvoyance.

She had risen from her bedsheets that morning cold and weary, for she hadn't indulged in any waking dreams that night. Instead, she had spent that time in meditation and self-reflection, but had only ended up confusing herself beyond belief. This had put her in a royally irritable mood, because, of all people, shouldn't _she_ be the one to understand herself? But that was the problem. Arya _didn't_ understand herself. Her mind and her heart were both _screaming_ at her to do two completely different things, leaving her trapped in limbo between the two with no _idea_ as to what was actually happening. All that she knew was that the previous day, she had managed to thoroughly tangle herself in her own emotions (some of which she _still_ couldn't identify, even though they were _hers_) by the simple act of being near Eragon as he struggled to cope with Saphira's strong emotions and sensations. The fact that Eragon was involved was the only thing Arya was certain of at this point, and, like so many other things, she wasn't sure how she felt about it; other than the overpowering urge to slam her head against a wall, of course. But she had a nagging suspicion that this would prove extremely counterproductive.

This was her state of mind as she had rushed down the hall, eager to remove herself from the keep and the presence of so many, many people. And as she had whipped around the corner that would lead her outside, she had stopped dead in her tracks. Just inside the door, Eragon and a blonde human woman were locked in an earnest conversation. Arya wasn't listening to their words, which were probably far too softly spoken for her to hear in any clarity. She merely watched them, unease tickling at her even though they obviously hadn't noticed her presence. Then, suddenly, the blonde stood up on her tip-toes and kissed the rider deeply, pressing herself as close as she possibly could to his body, much to the man's obvious shock.

But suddenly, Arya didn't care _how_ shocked he was. A bitter taste coated the inside of her mouth as she saw this strange _nobody_ kissing Eragon. Unwaveringly, the elf wanted to kill her. She wanted that woman to suffer the most horrific death she could possibly imagine for her. But beyond that, Arya felt unrelenting grief. Blind agony tore through her trembling frame as the pair's lips met, and these two emotions combined completely incapacitated her. She couldn't move; she couldn't think; she could only stare helplessly.

Overcoming his initial surprise, Eragon jerked away from the blonde, parting their lips instantly. She at first appeared astonished at this reaction, but then her admittedly beautiful features were overtaken with hurt, and she looked at him with tear-filled eyes. Apologetically, but with defined firmness, the rider pulled her arms from around him and pushed them back at her. The woman, clearly pained, began to cry and beg, and Eragon listened to her entreaties patiently. When he finally answered, the elf couldn't hear every word he said from her end of the hallway, but she heard enough to piece together his meaning. "Wish I could but… be for many reasons. It's not that I… and not… you're kind and beautiful. It's that… immortality, while you will… and I will be left to keep on living forever. I also cannot… with someone who cannot… who I am and… responsibilities… dragon rider. I'm sorry, but… cannot be. And… do not wish to hurt you… will not be… again. I do not love you."

Upon hearing this, Arya took in a shaky breath and began her endeavor to compose herself, watching with sick satisfaction as tears began falling from the blonde woman's eyes thick and fast. Arya's extreme reaction was still tingling down her entire body, and despite her anger with herself, she wasn't entirely successful in stilling her trembling. _Nothing happened_. She attempted to soothe herself, but she couldn't help demanding viciously of herself, _Why do you _care_? It is wrong of you to do so. Eragon's affairs are his own, and you have no reason to concern yourself with them. You gave up that right long ago._

And this was true. She had.

The human woman, extremely upset, now fled down the hall towards Arya, pushing past her and rushing away with puffy eyes. She paid no mind to who the elf in the hallway was. Eragon, looking after her sadly, jumped as his own, perfectly clear eyes finally alighted upon Arya and met her cold stare. They looked at one another for a moment, the rider in confusion and Arya in her own tumultuous emotions. Meeting his warm, deep chocolate eyes, the elf's heart began to pound rapidly out of a combination of fear, anger, and reluctant attraction. And suddenly, Arya couldn't stand to be anywhere _near_ him. Whipping around, she strode regally away. But as soon as she turned the corner and was out of Eragon's sightline, she ran. She ran and ran as fast as her legs could possibly take her. Out of the keep tower and through the city streets she ran, the whole way chanting sternly to herself, _I will not cry. You are being ridiculous! Get a _grip_._

Finally exiting Belatona, Arya ran for the first trees she saw. They weren't far, but they were quite thin, and she had to travel deep within them before she entirely lost sight of the city between the thin, graceful trunks. Then, and only then, did the elf allow even a single tear to fall. But any tear she shed now was not born out of sadness. Rather, they were tears of anger. She was angry with the nameless blonde woman who had kissed Eragon, earning herself Arya's guile and hatred. She was angry with Eragon as well, for causing such feelings within her that she really didn't think herself prepared for. But above all, Arya was angry with herself. She was angry because she didn't understand why Eragon's love life had suddenly become so important to her, and the cacophony of emotions that accompanied her learning of it (or lack thereof). Years ago, she might have felt ashamed of this behavior, but today, that didn't seem quite the word. As it always was concerning Eragon, Arya felt guilty. Never had she felt guilty about anything she'd done to anyone else. But she knew that in this situation, _everything_ that she felt was her fault. And now she didn't know how to handle it.

The beating of vast wings shattered what semblance of peace Arya had managed to flimsily construct around her. _"Don't you _dare_ keep running from me, elf, or I _will_ flame you."_ Saphira snapped irritably.

So miserable was Arya that, without question, she obeyed, halting her motion and sitting down on the forest floor on which she stood. But she was not so miserable as to give up her ever-present stony expression, and she watched without any outward emotion as the dragon tore up several trees by the roots to make room for herself to land. To her relief, Eragon didn't appear to be present at all.

Flinging the last birch away from her, Saphira landed with a none-too-subtle boom and settled regally at Arya's side. _"You are upset, Little One."_ She remarked dejectedly.

At first, the elf intended to speak aloud, but a hard lump had formed in her throat and so she answered mentally, _"Yes."_

_ "May I inquire as to why?"_

For a few poignant moments, Arya deliberated. But eventually, she settled with a simple, _"I don't know."_

Saphira snorted with disbelief. _"Yes you do."_ She countered, shoving a memory at the elf. Arya winced as she saw it. Clearly belonging to Eragon, it was her own face not a few minutes ago as he had seen her in the keep. Far from impassive, her expression radiated a vast panoply of emotions, not the least of which were anger, hurt, confusion, and disbelief.

_"I saw that human woman kiss Eragon." _She admitted, the very words stirring the pain within her. _"I saw also how he handled it well by turning down her advances. But… but that didn't stop me from feeling… oh, so many things Saphira!" _Arya's eyes began to feel perilously damp. _"I left for myself, not because of him. I left because I'm out of _control_ and I have no idea why. I'm confused and angry and a little scared." _She ceded, closing her eyes to Saphira's soft features.

_"Oh Little One…"_ the dragon murmured, almost pityingly, but surprising Arya by nudging her lovingly with her snout, _"I can see you are conflicted."_

_ "How do you do it?" _the elf asked calmly, but she knew that the dragon knew of her desperation regardless, _"How are you always so sure of what you feel? And how are you always so sure of how to _act_ upon your emotions?"_

Saphira grinned wolfishly. _"Aside from the fact that I am perfect, I listen to my heart." _She answered with kindness, but with a little laugh at her first vain comment. _"I don't try to make sense of my heart, for matters of the heart are fickle beasts that resent the oppressing influence of cold logic. Rather, I let my heart guide me. It has never led me astray thus far."_

Arya nodded thoughtfully. Saphira's words tugged at a memory the elf had made when she was very, very young. Her father, Evandar, had said much the same thing to her. But Arya had an inkling that letting go of logic would be far more difficult for her than Saphira, or even her father, made it out to be. But then, a small smile twitched at her mouth, and she asked cheekily, _"Is that what you did with Thorn, Saphira? It would seem that you listened to your heart quite keenly."_

Laughing a dragon laugh, Saphira responded through her chuckles, _"As it happens, yes. I first had to let go of my pride and preconceptions, but I am now happier than I have ever been before because I have found love. But what will _you_ decide, dear Arya? What do you _feel_?"_

Biting her lip with unnecessary force, Arya fought against her restless body and closed her eyes. What _did_ she feel? It was a riddle without a definite solution at the moment, but it was one that she ached to solve. Even if it _did_ mean letting go of a bit of her pride.

Firstly, she had to confront the reasons behind why she was so agitated with herself. And she suspected that the pride she intended to release was the largest factor. Pain from her emotions was something Arya had always warded off because she felt that this was weakness. And weakness was something she had never tolerated, _especially_ in herself. Forcing herself to see reason, and impressing upon her own mind that self-deprecation would do no good to her, the elf attempted to ease herself of the impression that emotions were condemnable offences. Sure enough, much of her immediate anger began to trickle away.

In slight ecstasy, Arya closed her eyes to the bright birch forest, enjoying the sensation. But after indulging in these brief moments, the elf felt she had to continue or face losing what miniscule progress she had made. Folding herself cross-legged and laying her arms to her sides as if she were meditating, Arya kept her eyes closed and began to evaluate what had occurred within her when the blonde woman had kissed Eragon. She had felt anger towards her immediately, and not for reasons that were selfless. Arya wasn't thinking of the rider when she had wished with all of her being that the woman would cease to exist. No, she simply didn't _want_ her to touch him. She didn't want _any_ woman to kiss him.

The elf frowned. Why?

Immediately after feeling such petty wrath, Arya remembered that she had experienced the ravaging ache of deep sadness. She was hurt that Eragon's lips had met those of this woman's; hurt beyond belief.

Then, it slowly occurred to her that, strange and new as the idea was, she was most likely _jealous_. Immediately, her pride flared up and struck the thought down with violent disgust. No. She, Arya Drottningu Shadeslayer, was not _jealous_ of the fact that someone else had kissed Eragon! But Saphira's words still stood, and with a pit yawning in her stomach as a result of her fear, the elf, cringing, pushed her pride away. And there was nothing beyond it.

So it was true then; she _was_ jealous.

Blood seeped from her lower lip as she bit at it.

_Why would I feel that way? _How_ could I feel that way? _She screamed at herself inwardly.

_ If you but let go of your pride, you will see why. _The part of her that listened to her heart responded with unusual gentleness.

Arya shook her head vehemently, fighting back tears. _This is _wrong_. There are so many reasons why we cannot be! _She insisted.

Mildly, her heart replied with disarming kindness, _And yet, there are so many reasons why you can and _should_ be. Would you ignore all of these because of your pride?_

_ What reasons?_ Arya tersely demanded of herself, _There are no reasons for an abomination such as we would be! And what of Faolin? That would be betrayal!_

The other side of her flinched. _Abomination? _It repeated, as if hurt, _You and Eragon would _not_ be an abomination. And Faolin… _Unimaginable sorrow filled its tones, but it continued bluntly. _Faolin is dead. Nothing you can do could ever change that. As for the reasons you should be together, I should probably start with the fact that you love him._

Arya, still caught up in her pride, recoiled as if she had been slapped. _I… _love_ him?_ She choked out incredulously, _How could that even be the most remote of _possibilities_?_

_ Think about it… _her inner self advised, _You'll see._

In an instant, Arya's eyes flew open and she leaped to her feet.

_"Feel better?"_ Saphira asked lazily, blowing warm air across Arya's slender form as she sighed contentedly.

Forcing herself to appear more serene than she felt, the elf asked simply, "Where is he?"

Bony eyelid releasing a sharp _snick_ as she blinked, Saphira answered, _"He would have come to you himself but for the fact that there were more children scheduled to be presented to the egg today. As the hour grows late however, I assume he should be done shortly. Seek him in Belatona's main square."_

"Thank you, Saphira." Arya gasped, bowing. Turning back towards Belatona, she added quietly, "Thank you for everything."

_"Go, Little One. Listen to your heart."_

And go Arya did. Running just as fast as she had done before, she made her way back towards Belatona in a blur of midnight hair and pounding feet, ignoring the startled calls of civilians and soldiers alike as she did so. In sick parallel to earlier, Arya no longer needed to get away from Eragon. Rather, she needed with every fiber of her being to face him. And above all, she needed to know if he still had feelings for her, especially after the fiasco at the Blood-Oath Celebration where she had put him down so harshly. Had it merely been a passing fancy, she decided, she would crush her own feelings back into oblivion. But, on the slim chance that Eragon really _did_ love her… she would cross bridge when she came to it. Despite everything Saphira had told her, Arya needed to look the rider in the eye before her heart and her mind could make peace.

By the time the elf reached the square, the setting sun had streaked the sky with vibrant oranges, pinks, and yellows, and light was growing rather dim. A vast crowd was slowly dispersing, heads hung in disappointment, from the area, leading Arya to guess that, again, the egg had chosen no one to be its rider. Having no need to push her way through a crowd that parted respectfully for her on its own, the elf wove her way to the center of the square where, sure enough, Eragon stood with his complement of elven spellcasters, gingerly placing the egg back into its sack. She walked to them as a condemned man walked to the gallows.

"Blodhgarm, you and the others are dismissed for the remainder of the evening." She told the furred elf brusquely, concealing her turbulent state of mind fairly well. "Shadeslayer and I have matters of great importance to discuss, and we do not require your presence."

Hearing this, Eragon, whose steady gaze had been fixed upon her since she approached, raised an arched eyebrow. Still, he said nothing to oppose Arya's statement. This meant that Blodhgarm, who was bristling a bit at being dismissed so, had no choice but to accept her words as an order from the both of them. "As you wish, Shadeslayers." He responded tartly. As one, the elves turned and left, each and every one of them shooting intrigued glances behind them as they did so.

Now almost entirely alone, Arya and Eragon just looked at one another. Finally, the elf chimed, allowing nothing to break her impeccable façade other than urgency, "Is there someplace we could speak without being disturbed?"

Solemnly, the rider nodded, an unfathomable expression on his face. "Will my room in the keep suffice? Or do you desire something more isolated?"

"Your quarters will be perfectly acceptable." Responded Arya tersely, and as one, the pair set off in that direction. The elf didn't bother to even attempt to strike up conversation in the meantime, ensconced in her own thoughts; a choice which Eragon fortunately seemed to understand and accept. As of now, she was well aware of what her heart was trying to tell her. She just wasn't sure if she liked what it had to say.

Finally, they wove through the final hallway and stepped into Eragon's quarters at a brisk pace. The rider then set the green egg on his bed, bolted the door, and warded the room (which was nearly identical to Arya's own sparsely furnished space, located along a nearby hall) from listeners. They were alone.

Curious, the rider turned his warm gaze upon her face, and the elf succeeded through pure force of will to keep her body from trembling. Facing a weapon-wielding enemy was one thing, but this… this was frightening. This was something that Arya had no control over, and it disturbed her. "Eragon…" she began, voice as strong as her spirit, despite her emotional bashing, "I am going to ask you a question. And I beg of you to please answer me honestly, even though it is a personal matter and I have no right to bring the subject up again. This is… important to me. Will you do this?"

Eragon considered her. After a brief pause, he looked straight into her eyes and said so softly that none without elven hearing could discern his words, "Wiol ono." For you.

A steel band seemed to tighten around Arya's chest as she heard this, but resolute, she carried on. "I… I know that you have been very careful in treating me as you would any other friend, especially after the… after we were last together in Ellesmira." Visibly, Eragon flinched, and Arya did so as well. But she needed to _know_, and a few minutes of discomfort would be worth the effort. "I would like to know what your feelings are _now_. I admit that I saw you turn a woman down this morning and I… couldn't help but to wonder if you had moved on yet."

The rider's eyes narrowed as he looked at her. In the Ancient Language, he stated carefully, "I would rather not broach this subject with you Arya. Should my answer displease you, I fear for our friendship, which I value more than most anything in all of Alagaesia."

"_Should_ your answer displease me," the elf swore in the same tongue of no lies, "I promise you that we shall leave this room with our friendship intact, for I too value it highly." Forcing herself from fidgeting nervously as she was inclined to do, Arya stood calm and still as Eragon's expression turned from guarded to one of pain.

"Very well." He whispered, and she noted with mild surprise that he still spoke in the dialect of the elves. Straightening himself regally, the man raised his voice to a proud volume and his words flowed without the slightest hesitation. "No, Arya Svit-kona, I have _not_ moved on. In all honesty, I doubt I ever will. There is little you are capable of doing that would change the fact that I _love_ you, and would give nearly anything to be with you." He shot her an angry look and said sternly, "There. You have my answer. Condemn me as you will."

Mouth opening slightly and quickly snapping shut again, Arya cursed her loss for words. She had heard what Eragon had said, and while her mind groaned quietly in discomfort, her heart soared wildly and giddily in unadulterated glee, muting its protests. He loved her. He loved _her_. Even after the agony she had put him through. She really couldn't process more than that at the moment.

With a rustle of her auburn tunic, the elf sat softly on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on the egg to keep it from rolling off. By this time, she had passably registered the fact that Eragon had once again declared his love for her, and was debating on whose advice she should follow: her heart's, or her mind's. Without contest, her heart won out, but she was at a loss as to how to convey this to a miserable Eragon. Her mother was right; she had never been any good with words.

Keeping a respectful distance between them, Eragon joined her on the mattress, lifting the emerald egg out of the way in the process and placing it on the bedside table. He appeared, if anything, a little sheepish. "I do not regret my feelings Arya." He told her gently, but his voice was nevertheless firm.

The elf looked at him, still grasping helplessly for inspiration. But this time, her heart lost patience and completed the work for her. Barely maintaining control of her wild self, she managed to swiftly gasp out, "Nor do I." And before Eragon even had time to appear confused, Arya closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against his.

Utter astonishment crossed the rider's features and he stiffened. But this hesitation lasted for only a fraction of a second, and he responded eagerly to the action. For what seemed like hours but in reality was not a fraction so long, the pair indulged themselves in each other, making their kiss deep and sweet. Through their physical contact, Arya could feel Eragon's heart pounding along at a pace that rivaled her own. But she paid little heed to this, as the fire racing along every nerve of her body was enough to distract her from almost anything other than what her partner's lips happened to be doing at the moment. The sensation of being so close to someone else… being just a piece of something that was bigger than the sum of their parts… it was a feeling that Arya decided right then and there was one of the best feelings in all of Alagaesia. Finally, the pair pulled briefly apart, gasping for breath, before they pressed their foreheads together tenderly and simply rested against one another with eyes blissfully closed. Arya felt Eragon smile beneath the light touch of her cheek. "I love you Arya." He whispered, lips trailing down her neck with surprising gentleness.

Tilting her head back blissfully, the elf gasped, "I… I love you too." The words sent contentment flooding throughout her entire body, and she smiled, all traces of her earlier anxiety vanishing completely with Eragon's touch, before returning her attention to the man she newly realized that she loved. She would have to thank Saphira later, because her heart, for once, had been allowed a victory.

* * *

A sharp squeak jolted Arya from her nightmare-free sleep, and her eyes flew open instantly. For a moment, panic consumed her, as she didn't recognize her surroundings, but as a flood of memories washed over her, the elf's panic transformed into a sense of deep contentment. She knew exactly where she was.

"Wha— what's that sound?" a bleary voice sounded from beside her.

"I don't see anything. Perhaps a mouse." Arya responded off-handedly before snuggling back down into Eragon's warm form.

The rider stayed alert for a few moments longer than she did, watching and listening from her side, but seemed to come to the conclusion that she was probably right and closed his eyes again, curling an arm around her and holding her close. Just as Arya was prepared to fall back into her dreams however, the shrill noise bleated back out into the air once more, and with a curse, she shoved herself upright and stumbled out of bed to where her sword lay atop her discarded clothes. Muttering something in the Ancient Language, Eragon's worried face, along with the entire room, was illuminated by the soft glow of a red werelight as he unsheathed Brisingr in a flash.

But there was no intruder in Eragon's room. There was no one present besides the pair of them. No, the cause of the noise was the dragon egg on the bedside table that had begun to rock violently back and forth, squeaking loud enough to wake even a bear from its slumber.

* * *

**So... WHAT DIDJA THINK? I'm SO scared of this chapter! Did I do it right? Are you mad at me? Eeeeekkkk! *runs around in a panic* O_o**

_**Replying to Totally Random Solembum...  
That is probably the most epic few sentences I've heard in about three months... LAMO! XD**_

_**Replying to RestrainedFreedom...  
I tried to avoid "animal instincts" in this chapter, but I still had them get together. Are we still good? (And Murty's reprecussions... well... *evil laugh* That, my friend, is a story for another chapter!) :P**_

_**Replying to ToLazyToThinkOfAGoodName...  
How bout now? Happier? (Haha you shipper you!)**_

_**Replying to Inkweaverabc...  
Haha if Eragon did something stupid with that hug... awkward moment! XD I would have laughed. Arya would have slapped. Life would have been good.**_

_**Replying to Annonnn...  
Oh haha, well, I'm flattered, but no, I'm not a published author! (I only WISH I was!) I'm not good enough for that, silly! And I'm only 15 besides! (A comment that is pointless on an Inheritance fic... *sigh* Ignore me.) :P**_

_**Replying to Pens Insanity...  
Hey you're back! *jumps up and down* I'm excited! :D  
On another note, I took a quick glance at your profile and I saw you write Farscape. Yes! FINALLY someone in existence who not only knows what that is, but wrote for it less than ten years ago! *parties* My entire family hates it and no one else knows what the heck it is, much less is willing to watch it! *facepalm* They're all weirdos. :P**_

_**Replying to ROK...  
Hey! Wazzup Peoria? :D I'm north Phoenix. Guess all that heatstroke makes better writers out here huh?**_

_**Replying to ligrrl13...  
*blushes* Naw, By the Light of a Spark is insanely good. I'll take that brownie though! *winks and munches* Yum! :D**_

_**Replying to BassoonPlayer7...  
Rawk on band kid! *high-fives* Do you really play the bassoon? We don't have a bassoon in our band. The directer calls them quacking bedposts. XD I'm glad you liked this!**_

_I'm FREAKING OUT for feedback here, people! Do you know how LONG I've been waiting for this chapter? 23 chapters! That's 67,328 words! (Which is, by the way, a LONG time.)_

_Review! Please! *begs shamelessly* Then go visit Twice Times Forever, my new fic! :D _


	25. Brambles

_This chapter is dedicated to the 500th reviewer, Silverleaf of the Faerie. (Well, an annonymous reviewer signed in as Silverleaf which I assume is my lovely Silverleaf of the Faerie, formerly known as Silverleaf of the Forest. If not, you're lovely too.) :P But back to Silverleaf of the Faerie. She's a great reader and always has something nice to say and constructive criticism to offer, and is just all-around wonderful. Random and spunky, but wonderful! XD_

* * *

Again, **IMPORTANT TO YOU PEOPLE**! I have a **new poll** up on my profile page! But this time, it's for Greeni's name. (I mean, who ever heard of a dragon called Greeni? Poor thing... Saphira would laugh at him.) By this time, you should ALL know about my decision issues, and I'm predictably having a hard time choosing a name. It would mean a lot to me if you could all take two seconds to help out. :)

_**Note: People. People, people, people. I know you're excited. I know. But there was a time jump last chapter for a reason! What happened is a secret, and I'm not telling! :P Naw, the whole point of the jump was that everyone can just think whatever they want to think. That way the shippers can feel happy and those of us who aren't shippers can go through less pain. :) Good? Awesome.**_

**Did I ever mention how much I love you guys? I did? Let me mention it again. I love you guys. I got 40 reviews for last chapter! 40! *dances* You are AWESOME! 8D**

I apologize to anyone who noted my absence this past week, either in not responding to their PMs or not reviewing their stories. I had band camp. So... tired... you have no idea... O_o

_**Now FINALLY for this chapter. It's pretty short and pretty jumbled, but our favorite little elf is kind of in shock most of the time. So please excuse her. She just got mind-melded with a dragon! :P**_

* * *

Frozen in place, Arya couldn't even bring herself to breathe as she stared incredulously at the jade dragon egg that had emitted such a noise. Her thoughts had dwindled to a complete halt, and nothing registered in her mind aside from the fact that the egg was _moving_. Rocking violently back and forth, it was squeaking and bashing itself against whatever happened to be near it for all it was worth. Finally, the elf managed to choke out, "Eragon… the egg it's… it's…"

"Hatching, I know." He finished for her, perfectly calm in both voice and appearance as he sheathed Brisingr and began to pull on his clothes as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

Arya mimicked him uncertainly, dressing herself in a blind haste and dropping her blade back onto the floor. But her wide emerald eyes never left the egg, which had lessened in its urgency and stilled to small wobbles, peeping softly. "It's hatching…" she breathed in wonder and awe before her tone fluttered into one of puzzlement, "But… who for?"

The rider looked at her evenly. "It's hatching for _you_ Arya." He said simply.

A thousand cries of protest raked through the elf woman's consciousness. How was that _possible_? She was over a hundred years old, and dragon eggs only hatched for children. Didn't they? "It cannot _be_…" she hissed softly, but her voice held little conviction and the gaze that was fixated on the egg was not one of doubt.

Eragon didn't rebuke her aloud, but she knew by feel that he was entirely confidant in his assessment. Walking silently up behind her, the rider wrapped his arms around her and planted a kiss on the top of her head. Absent-mindedly, Arya pulled his arms tighter to her, but still she gazed in a mixture of shock and dread upon the egg that had resumed its activities with a vengeance. It had, by this time, crashed onto the floor. As they watched, still locked in this pose, a crack appeared on its pristine surface that ran down almost its entire length. Suddenly, another sprang into existence. Then another. Then another. Eventually, fissures of all lengths and widths webbed its surface, and where the majority of them met, the egg's surface trembled with an unseen force. A jab from the hatchling within loosened a few of the egg pieces, and another caused them to fall away completely. Slowly a dark form heaved itself from its encasement, bits of eggshell splintering away all around it, revealing the awkward shape of a whole, complete baby dragon. Seemingly nonchalant, it then proceeded to pose itself gracefully next to the remnants of its egg and lick off the sticky membrane that clung to its vibrant green scales.

"There he is." Eragon spoke through her hair with a hint of pride before releasing her. "He's your dragon."

Carefully, so as not to startle the little creature, Arya sank to the floor, her doubt and fear melting away. In the background, she could hear Eragon shuffling around and lighting candles so as to illuminate the room. But her attention did not waver from the dragon hatchling. No, witnessing such an event as this filled her with far too much wonder for distraction.

Sensing her gaze, the hatchling whipped his head around to look at her, and each considered the other coolly for a moment. He was not built as sturdily as Thorn, possessing finer features and a body shape that was supple and suggested great speed, but he was definitely male. As for his scales: they were not the light, fresh green of grass or an oak tree's leaves. Rather, they were a deep, dark green reminiscent of the pine needles of Du Weldenvarden that faded to black around his snout and claws and down his spine, his vibrant emerald eyes and diminutive ivory spikes, talons, and fangs being the lightest aspects of his appearance. In all, he was an unusual, but unquestionably handsome, dragon.

"Touch him. Go on." Eragon prompted from her side, brushing the side of her face with the back of his hand soothingly.

Nodding determinedly, the elf woman slowly extended her hand towards the little dragon, stopping just a few inches beyond his nose. Lazily, the hatchling considered the hand proffered to him with a shrewd eye. Then, unusually zealous, he thrust his head into Arya's palm.

White-hot agony raced up her arm and spread throughout her entire body as if she had swallowed molten lava and ice at the same time. The pain was everywhere, and the elf barely had time to shriek out a wordless scream before it overcame her and trapped her in a world where only _it_ existed, racing down her limbs in ravaging fire. For what seemed like two times an eternity, Arya remained shut down in her icy, semi-conscious state. But slowly, ever so slowly, the frozen flames receded from her body like the tide does the shore and warmth, not heat, trickled back into her. Shuddering at the sensation, Arya slowly fluttered her eyes open again.

Immediately, her senses were assaulted by the poorly hushed babble of excited voices and she moaned her protest, clenching her teeth and sitting up. Oddly enough, this proved to be a bit of a difficulty seeing as she now had an entire dragon curled contentedly on her collarbone. Smiling softly, Arya traced a finger along his jaw line, and he hummed in delight. And _this_ delight she could _feel_. It spread throughout her own body along a cable of awareness that tied her mind to another's that was most definitely not her own, and yet, in the strangest way, _was_.

"Welcome back, Arya Drottningu Shadeslayer Shur'turgal." An amused, semi-mocking voice greeted her. Glaring up, the elf saw Murtagh hanging over her with laughter written all over his features. He grinned knowingly at her. "Hurts, doesn't it?"

"May you be gifted with many warts, Murtagh." She growled irritably, but so softly that only he could hear, managing to lift the dragon  
–_her_ dragon- from her chest and onto her shoulder with minimal destruction of clothing. Sitting up from her sprawl on the floor and looking around her, Arya wasn't surprised to see that just about every figure of importance in the Varden had been crammed into Eragon's tiny bedroom. She nodded expressionlessly to each of them in turn; Nasuada, Orrin, Nar Garshzvog, Narheim (appointed as Orik's representative for the dwarven troops), Grimmr Halfpaw, Seramyl (although Arya suspected she had snuck her way in), both her and Eragon's guards, Anyglen and Kayla, and even Angela. Needless to say, the space was a bit cramped, although no one really seemed to mind aside from herself. They were all busy discussing the advantages of having yet another rider on their side.

"My apologies. I thought it best not to warn you that it's a bit painful." Eragon muttered, squashed somewhere between Murtagh and Blodhgarm and not appearing too happy about it.

"I understand." The elf answered with a sigh, running a hand through her hair uncomfortably. Eying the crowd surrounding her, she asked reproachfully, "How long was I out?"

"Trust me, not very." Nasuada interjected with a laugh. Eragon told Saphira what had happened, and Saphira told Thorn, who told Murtagh, who told me and…" She shrugged at the eager faces flanking her. "It got a little out of hand from there."

Raising one delicately arched eyebrow, Arya declined to comment on this and instead looked around her challengingly, one hand resting on her humming dragon's side. In response, her audience quieted and stirred a bit uncomfortably.

For a while, this seemed to be all that anyone was ever going to do; Arya looked at them, and they looked at Arya. But, predictably, Orrin couldn't contain himself any longer (although he had made an admirable effort). "How did this happen?" he asked eagerly, but, lacking the patience for an answer, plowed on, "I mean, aside from the fact that the egg began to hatch and you came straight to Eragon. But how in the blazes did you _get_ it?"

Arya's heart practically stopped, but she concealed her reaction behind the blank expression she so often wore. She wasn't certain if she wanted to announce before all of these people that she and Eragon had been spending the night together, and with Orrin inquiring after it, she wasn't certain that she could tell a convincing lie. But she also decided that she wasn't ashamed of her relationship with Eragon, and he deserved a say just as much as she did.

_"How much do you think we should tell them?" _she asked the rider within the confines of his mind.

His answer was not long in coming. _"Perhaps now is not the time for them to know._" He advised tentatively, with a hint of regret, _"What with all of this excitement, I'm unsure of how it would be handled."_

Sending him a mental nod of agreement, the elf woman spoke aloud in answer to Orrin's question, "Eragon wished for a brief respite in guarding the egg. Naturally, I volunteered my services." Glib and smooth, the falsehood sounded convincing even to Arya's ears. "I retired, and was awoken by a strange noise that turned out to be the egg. When I realized what was occurring, I ran straight here."

Satisfied, the human king nodded. It was then that everyone broke out into excited blathering once more and Arya was forced to smile and nod politely to things that, to her sensitive ears, seemed as if they were screamed at her. Inwardly, she felt shaky and uncertain. There was _more_ of her in her head; a void of thought and sensation that wasn't her own, and all of this extra stimulation was quite overwhelming. Clearly feeling the same way, the dragon hatchling curled around her neck and shoulders bared his tiny fangs in an aggressive snarl. At that moment, Arya silently thanked any gods happened to exist that those in the room were sensible beings, and that they immediately fell silent.

"Perhaps we shall discuss such things and celebrate at a later date," Nasuada suggested regretfully in a low voice that carried less than a whisper. "once your dragon has acclimated himself more to the presence of so many."

"Thank you, my lady." Eragon responded in a tone just as soft, "If it wouldn't be too bold, may I request that you all depart now? I would like the hatchling to remain as comfortable as possible for the moment, and I myself will meet with you soon, should you so wish."

The dark-skinned woman inclined her head. "Of course." With that, those crammed into the small space reluctantly trailed back into the hallway and began to disperse their separate ways.

On her way out, Seramyl, in her human-esque form, brushed the shaggy hair from her face and whispered to the elf, her childish voice flushed with pride, "My father _told_ me it would be you. But I think I knew it was you all along." Before Arya could respond however, Seramyl tripped after her father, and the elf watched her go with a grin.

Suddenly, a strong, demanding sensation tickled Arya from her link to the dragon, and she called softly, "Blodhgarm." The elf turned just inside the door, lips pursed.

"What is your desire, Drottningu?" he purred, and the elf woman's eyes narrowed at his tone, which was knowing and, somehow, hurt.

Despite this, she answered him with impeccable manners, "He is hungry. Would you request that a servant be sent up here with some meat?"

Eyes unfathomable and words completely complacent, the blue-furred elf informed her, "I have already brought something for him, and have left it with rider Eragon."

Stirring at his words, Eragon wordlessly crossed the room and removed some dried pork from a sack, which Arya's hatchling pounced on with alacrity. Smiling, the elf woman watched the small dragon gorging itself with distinct tenderness. But Blodhgarm, it appeared, had not concluded.

"Ah, and Drottningu?" he added with a touch too much of innocence. "Next time you go off _wandering_, pleased do inform your guards where you have gone. Luinae was quite worried that you hadn't returned to your own room." Briefly, he indulged her with a short, stiff bow before sweeping from the room.

Eyes wide, the elf woman cursed her own stupidity. Of course her guards would have noted her absence; they were not fools. She had dismissed them earlier this morning, hours before she had dismissed Eragon's guards, but Arya couldn't believe she hadn't anticipated that they would check up on her. The four of them had been getting along wonderfully since the day they had captured Belatona, and one of them, if not all, would frequently take even some of their off-duty hours to speak companionably with her. Of _course_ they would do so today. And in doing so, of _course_ they would note her absence.

Picking up on her alarm, her dragon abandoned his meal and rubbed up against her leg with a slight whine. Arya looked down distractedly and stroked his back comfortingly, carefully avoiding his spines. But that didn't stop her from being all to aware that she had told a blatant lie today, and now her elves knew that she had done so.

Gently, Eragon lifted her chin as he stepped in front of her, causing the little emerald dragon hatchling to squawk with indignation as the man crowded him a bit. "Don't worry over it." He told her firmly.

Vehemently, Arya shook her head. "_Don't worry over it?_" she repeated, "Eragon, I _lied_ to them. _We_ lied to them. They have a _right_ to be upset, because now they'll feel as if we don't trust them! After all the time they've spent with us, we don't trust them!"

"We didn't lie to _them_." Eragon responded carefully, "We lied to the others present. They have no way of knowing that we wouldn't have spoken to them privately after all of the excitement was said and done. I, for one, would have. And their reaction of offence is exactly why we lied in the first place. There's far too much stress surrounding the events of today for them to have taken it well."

Reluctantly, the elf woman nodded, scooping up the hatchling into her arms as he squeaked in protest, squirming. "But now," she added sadly, "we have offended them. We have instigated exactly what we hoped to avoid, and have in addition made it worse."

Surprising Arya considerably, Eragon began to laugh helplessly, and didn't cease until she demanded what was so funny. "Oh Arya…" he chortled, gently nudging the dragon, now resigned to being held, in the nose with one finger, "This has to do with _me_! How could you possibly forget that I make _everything _far more complicated than it is? You said so yourself, I must make an effort to walk through every bramble in the land!"

She tried very hard not to laugh. She really did. But Arya managed to keep a straight face for a grand total of a heartbeat before breaking down and laughing just as hard as Eragon was. Why not? Frankly, he was right.

* * *

**Filler-ish, but necessary. I'm looking forward to writing about the ensuing drama. *evil laugh* It's SO like high school! XD**

(There were a LOT of reviews last chapter. I'm sorry if I don't get to you here, but I don't want the entire update to be replies.) :P

**_Replying to ToLazyToThinkOfAGoodName...  
Haha! Well I'm glad you liked it that much!_**

**_Replying to Engr99...  
Aw well I don't think I'm THAT good... I like my imaginary trophy though. I think it's pretty. :)_**

**_Replying to Agretlam...  
Oh now can you blame the blonde chick? Even Arya thinks Eragon is hawt! XD 'Sides not only did she get rejected, I used her as a tool to push at Arya a little. *shame* Poor tool... :P_**

**_Replying to RestrainedFreedom...  
Right? XD Mind. Blown. Poor elf! And now everyone on the planet is about to freak out! (Exaggeration.) But really. What will her mother say? *winks*_**

**_Replying to Very Good...  
I like your point about Faolin. I think I will quite soon. :)_**

**_Replying to KyuuinShinkel...  
All right, you're now officially KiSs. Why? Because your pen name is long. I'm lazy. The initials are KS. That's lame. You're KiSs. It's a good band.  
I'm so happy you finally got a chance to review! :) And thanks for bringing to my attention those people who choose not to review. It's way too easy to forget they exist and that's a terrible mistake on my part. They matter just as much as reviewers (even though I love reviews). So thankyouthankyouthankyou. Shoutout to non-reviewers, you're awesome! :D_**

**_Replying to Inkweaverabc...  
Oh don't worry, the reluctant pair is getting to that. XD_**

**_Replying to KO...  
Hooray for mutual reviews! :P My band kids are irritating too. But I love them SO much! They're my family._**

**_Replying to Dagibsta...  
*lafsnortlaf* Lol Arya with multiple personality disorder is something I would pay a great deal of money to see... XD_**

**_Replying to Darknessbecomesme...  
Cliffies are an authoress's best friend! :D (And hi! I missed you!)_**

**_Replying to chaSing b0b...  
Why would I call a boy dragon Esmeralda you silly? :P_**

**_Replying to ReadsTooFast...  
Wow well in that case I'm honored! :D And yes, I did. I'm so EXCITED! *runs around in a circle waving cat around like a sombrero*_**

**_Replying to Revan...  
I like the 99.983%. You are very precise lol! :)_**

_Please review! And don't forget that poll! _


	26. For My Happiness

_This chapter is dedicated to the 550th reviewer, Silverleaf of the Faerie. Again. That's ok though, because I think she has definitely proved herself an awesome fan. XD_

**So, I was really impressed with all of the hits and reviews I got for last chapter. It made me MONGO happy! So, as a reward, I have given you two chapters squashed into one giant chapter! *grins proudly* I think my beta got lost though, so please know this is self-edited.**

_**Oh, and also, school's started! I show up at 6:30am and get out at 2pm, but I stay 'till 9pm on Tuesdays, 5pm on Wednesdays, and 10:30pm on Fridays. That's more than 12 hours of being at school people. Yes, I'm busy. And now taking all AP classes. My brain is going to BLOW UP! *cries* But needless to say, updates will definitely be slower, so sorry. But how can I be a published author without school, hmm? :)**_

**Anywho, for this chapter. Yes, it's gargantuan. Yes, it's a teeny bit of a filler. But Greeni growing up NEEDS to happen before the action, capiche? 'Sides, I have a BIG surprise for next chapter, as well as some really intense drama! So look forward to that! :D**

**_Also, I'll be posting the final update for Twice Times Forever soon. If any of you people like Arya at all (or even if you don't and just want to see her suffer) please please please please PLEASE check that out. You'll have my eternal love! *hopeful glance*_**

**And on with the chapter! Please enjoy!**

* * *

"Draumr kopa." Arya felt a little of her energy trickle away at the words, and the surface of the hand mirror she held rippled with color before settling on a decisive image. Sighing and shifting uncomfortably, the elf shot a furtive glance at her silent guards, standing silently at the entrances to the icy courtyard. Come the morning, she had left Eragon's rooms and sought Luinae, Celebel, and Himnaur out herself as he had done the same with his own guards. Once she had found them, she had carefully explained that her relationship with Eragon Shadeslayer had changed rather drastically, and that she had only lied the previous evening to save herself the trouble of dealing with the issue for a later date. Thankfully, they had (rather stiffly) accepted Arya's apologies. It was for the better, Arya decided, that they had taken the time to explain the situation to them and make amends, rather than let any animosity fester. Still, the discussion had been an extremely awkward one, and Arya sensed that not only was she not entirely forgiven, her relationship with the rider was not entirely approved of. She sincerely hoped that Eragon had fared better with his own guards.

Jumping slightly as her dragon, all emerald gradient scales and claws, pounced playfully on her leg that dangled from the white-encrusted bench, Arya attempted to return her attention back to her scrying spell. The mirror now portrayed the interior of a bustling stone chamber, filled with maps and spells and fluid voices.

"Greetings, Drottningu. Atra esterní ono thelduin." The face of an elf, Lord Dathedr, if Arya was not mistaken, suddenly sprang into her field of vision.

Gracefully, the elf woman inclined her head. "Mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr." She replied softly. "I wish to speak with my mother."

Eyes unfathomable, Dathedr nodded briskly and ducked away. Impatiently, Arya stirred again, wincing as her little dragon hatchling decided that her running boot would be a good thing to chew on. Fortunately, by the time her mother made her way into the view of the scrying mirror, the hatchling had tired of the boot and had tumbled off into some nearby bushes, chasing insects and stray snowflakes.

Respectfully, Arya and Islanzadi exchanged greetings over the noise of the surrounding elves, which were calling out and bickering. "What is it you wish, daughter?" the Queen then demanded brusquely, "Your scheduled report isn't due for several days yet, and I really am far too busy to be indulging in small talk."

Said daughter bristled. "Far too busy for your _child_, I see." She hissed, vibrant emerald eyes snapping. But, calming herself, Arya was able to prevent _undue_ displeasure from tainting her voice. "Please, mother; see to it that we hold the following conversation alone."

Islanzadi's eyes widened at Arya's insolence, along with a few of the nearest elves, and Arya suddenly felt a rush of giddy emotion. She was a dragon rider. Should she choose, she wasn't required to answer to the Queen. And the thought thrilled her to no end.

"Arya… what is the matter with you?" her mother reprimanded, horrified, but in a voice low enough that the others nearby would have to struggle to hear.

The elf raised an elegantly arched eyebrow. "I wouldn't put it so harshly, mother." She responded sweetly, "I feel quite well. But again, I must express my wish for a private conversation with you, for that which I share with you is not for the ears of others." A hundred years and Islanzadi hadn't changed an iota. The elf was unsure of whether or not this was a positive attribute, but one could never accuse the Queen of being inconsistent.

As Arya predicted, Islanzadi's curiosity overcame her offence, and with a brief flick of her hand, the room was reluctantly cleared, and the projects of the busy elves were left lonely and abandoned. Parent and child were now alone. "Now, daughter. What is it you wished to speak of?" Islanzadi sighed, back ramrod straight and foot tapping her impatience.

Resisting the temptation to grin antagonistically, Arya pulled a formal mask over her features and spoke with deliberate precision, "I have two matters of importance that I assume you would like to be made aware of. One is a highly personal matter, and the other concerns…" Arya hesitated, calculating the impact of a dragon, "everyone."

"Business first, Arya, you know that."

"Very well." The elf replied tartly, unsurprised, "Do you recall the last dragon egg?"

Islanzadi appeared slightly offended. "Of course!" she exclaimed irritably, "As well as the fact that that troublesome head rider chose to present it to the children of the Varden before those of the elves!"

Suppressing a sigh at the constant harping on a practical decision that she herself had fully supported, Arya carried on diligently, "It has hatched."

Instantly, the Queen's demeanor flicked from irked to eager, anxious, and faintly mortified. "Another dragon egg has hatched for a human?"

Arya shook her head.

"But… for whom did it hatch then?" Islanzadi seemed genuinely flabbergasted. Which, Arya supposed, was understandable. Of the elves sent to aid the Varden, none were of the age generally reserved for contact with dragon eggs. This included Arya herself.

Wordlessly, Arya displayed her palm, which was now embossed with a bright sheen of the purest silver, and watched with poorly concealed amusement as Islanzadi appeared as if she were on the verge of fainting.

"But… you—rider… I… for your age—a dragon!" she spluttered in disbelief, blood draining from her face.

Arya looked back at her coldly. "I thought you would be happy for me."

"I am…" The Queen made an admirable effort to collect herself, and succeeded. "I am positively thrilled that you have had such an honor bestowed upon you, Arya." she clarified hesitatingly, "It's only that… one day I'd hoped you would be Queen."

Smiling bitterly, the new rider shook her head. "You know I never wanted that, mother." She whispered.

Wordlessly, Islanzadi nodded. Then, with an inaudible sigh, she forced her voice into a mold of happiness and asked brightly, "Well, may I meet my daughter's new bond then?"

Still busy tearing up the nearby shrubberies, the hatchling took a few long moments to notice Arya's mental command of "_Come._" and a few more after that to decipher the enigmatic term. But once he understood what his rider asked, he bounded up to the mirror with quite a bit of blithe chirping. Curious, he nosed the mirror that held such a lifelike image of an elf that looked so like his bond, but withdrew with an indignant snort at the frigid temperature of its surface, turning away again haughtily.

Islanzadi laughed. "He's much like you were as a child, Arya." She chortled, and her daughter couldn't help but smile. Arya liked this laughing, carefree Islanzadi far more than the brusque, short-of-temper one. It really was a shame that she came across the preferred only rarely. "Now what else did you wish to say to me?"

A pit of nerves twisted in Arya's gut. Now that it came down to it, she wasn't certain if she had to courage to inform her mother of her new relationship with the head rider. She would never admit it, but the elf valued her mother's opinion very highly. Even after seventy years of banishment and an unsatisfactory reconciliation, Arya still sought to please her. Islanzadi's reaction to her new mate was uncertain, and more than anything at the moment, Arya wanted to be certain of her mother. After lying to her about the existence of the Eldunari, any trust that she had rebuilt with her had been painfully severed, and only now was it beginning to heal once more. It made Arya queasy to even think about jeopardizing that again. But she owed it to herself to come clean with the truth. And so she did. "Mother…" Arya's voice was tremulous, but the emerald-eyed elf did her best to steady it. "I… I have taken a mate."

Islanzadi raised an eyebrow, mirth suddenly dissipated. "So soon?" was all she commented with.

Swallowing past the recurring twisting in her gut, Arya answered simply, "Yes. He makes me happy."

With a thoughtful nod, the Queen ruffled some papers at her side. "Very well." She responded lightly, as if they were discussing the weather, "I'm glad for you."

Now it was Arya's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Do you not wish to demand information on him? To at least know his name?"

Smiling sadly, her mother shook her head. "I have long since given up on attempting to dictate how you choose to live your life." She stated evenly, "Who and how you love is your choice, and your choice alone. For the moment, I am content with knowing that you're happy."

Slowly, a radiant smile stole across Arya's features: one that was soon echoed by Islanzadi herself. "I love you, mother." She whispered, for the first time in over seventy years.

"I love you too."

And somehow, a piece that had been missing in both of their respective hearts was filled once more.

* * *

"_He has much energy, this one."_ Thorn commented mildly as Arya's dragon clambered up his crimson snout and swatted at the streams of smoke the older dragon snorted through his nostrils solely for the youngster's amusement.

Lifting her bloodied muzzle from the carcass of the deer she had caught, Saphira barked out her dragon-laugh and proceeded to jet little flames from her mouth at Thorn's side until he playfully swatted her away with his scarred tail. Discreetly, Eragon let out a little cough to recapture the pair's attention.

"_Yes, Little Ones?"_ Saphira queried sweetly, turning her great head to where Eragon and Arya stood and eyeing them mischievously.

"You and Thorn will care for the hatchling for the rest of today? You will keep him safe?" the man confirmed, poking his dragon in the snout and then quickly placating her with a scratch beneath her chin.

Humming contentedly, the cerulean dragon closed her eyes and answered sleepily, _"Yes. Thorn and I shall attend to him. He won't get into _too_ much trouble."_

Arya, in answer, just laughed her tinkling laugh and danced her fingers on her hatchling's nose while he eyed her indignantly, flaring his remarkable little wings. She had an inkling that he was definitely one for trouble.

"Come on Arya." Eragon cut through this little prediction by taking her hand gently, tugging a little to indicate the direction in which they were going. "We have work to do."

Grinning, the elf woman followed, and Eragon led her out of the huddle of thin trees (incidentally, the same trees Arya had visited before, when she had been so uncertain of what she felt for Eragon) and back towards Belatona, kicking up puffs of snow as they went. As they walked, Eragon kept up a continuous monologue of the history and customs of the riders of old. Many of these things Arya was already aware of, but she didn't interrupt, as each bit of information built up on the one before it, and if she had a skewed understanding of anything—anything at all—she wouldn't have such useful information at hand when she needed it. And, as a (she was still in slight denial) dragon rider, Arya would need to know as much as she possibly could. Even if Eragon being her tutor for a change was a strange reversal of her world. Periodically, he would pause in his streams of information to spell out scenarios for her. What should she do if such-and-such were occurring to her and her dragon, and such-and-such things were occurring in the world around her. Arya would answer in a such-and-such way, but having a dragon changed her abilities beyond drastically. It was definitely something to get used to.

They wandered thus for several hours, hand in hand, Arya absorbing information as if she were a sponge. It wasn't until their stomachs were making audible hunger pangs that Eragon called a halt to the instruction, digging into a pouch at his side and withdrawing a little bread and cheese wrapped carefully in a cloth. It wasn't much, but Arya didn't mind. Huddled in her thick cloak, she folded her legs neatly beneath her and carefully nibbled at what Eragon had given her. Despite anything he had told her, the rider was an excellent teacher. He wasn't impatient, but he expected a respectful audience as well. More importantly, the man understood what it was like to be ignorant or even enlightened, and knew that sometimes, knowledge could be difficult to absorb if one's teacher wasn't devoted to your learning. He knew.

"And so," said dragon rider was saying eagerly, with tangible excitement, "The rider's spell over any given dragon egg is detectable using that simple incantation, thereby avoiding any confusing possibly arising from any misplacements, and no wild egg will accidentally be ferried along with those of the riders, or vice versa."

"Wouldn't the mother easily be able to tell anyways?" Arya queried.

"You would think so." The rider admitted, shrugging, "But it's happened."

The elf woman nodded ponderously, not feeling particularly inclined to reply further. Bits of knowledge were stirred up in her mind, fluttering every which way as if Eragon had stirred them with a spoon.

As she expressed this sensation, the man laughed heartily. "Now you understand my frame of mind as it has been for the duration of the past two years!"

Arya grinned. She certainly did. And, seeing as they were on a break in instruction for the moment, she did what naturally occurred to her to do, and captured Eragon's lips easily with hers in a deep, slow kiss.

They would have remained thus for quite an extended period of time if Arya had anything to say about it. The fire racing along her limbs was a wonderful cure for the aching cold of the air. But a voice sounding from behind them with forced calm provided a most untimely interruption. "I wondered how long it would take for the pair of you to finally realize what you meant to each other." It commented brightly. "I see I needn't have worried. You seem to have your relationship figured out quite well."

Breaking off her kiss and whipping her head around, Arya's pointed ears burned crimson as she was confronted with none other than the laughing face of Murtagh.

From beside her, Eragon asked calmly (although Arya could detect a slight tremor in his voice), "What is it you wanted, Murtagh?"

Still laughing so that his words came out strangled and stuttering, barely able to breathe, the red rider gasped, "I…I was sent by Nasuada to see to it that—that you both were informed of a meeting that is to be held a fortnight* from now with yourselves, Nasuada, myself, and Islanzadi. –Didn't expect to find the pair of you—"

"That's quite enough, thank you." Arya cut him off tartly, not bothering to unwrap her arms from Eragon. "I can see you're amused, so I won't spoil the moment by inquiring just what you were doing with Nasuada last night when rumors of my dragon hatching were flying around among us like a virus. She obviously heard the news quite quickly. And just now, seeing as she sent _you_ to find us rather than a messenger… Has anyone walked in on _you_ yet, Murtagh?"

This comment sobered the man up immediately, much to Eragon's amusement. The elf woman couldn't repress a grin.

Murtagh shook his head wryly. "Truce?" he offered.

Winking, Eragon chortled, "Truce."

"Just see to it that you both show up then, all right? Nasuada's gone to quite a bit of trouble to schedule the horrid thing." Murtagh sighed.

Graciously, Arya nodded, and the red rider walked away, suitably embarrassed. Moment gone, Eragon and Arya too took their leave and headed back towards where Thorn and Saphira were tutoring the hatchling to the extent of his abilities. Reaching out with her mind, the elf woman brushed up against her dragon's thoughts, and smiled to find him delightedly 'hunting' Thorn's twitching tail alongside Seramyl, who had apparently decided that the dark-scaled dragon was her new playmate.

Leaning her head up against Eragon's strong shoulder, Arya let the childlike delight flow over her in a bubbling rush. She wouldn't trade her rider bond for anything.

* * *

After a week like Arya just had, the sight of Saphira and Thorn snuggled together in the rubble that used to be a barracks was one that was both soothing and uplifting at once. Chewing contentedly on her running boot once again, despite the fact that it was still attached to her foot and he was now far to old for such foolery, the hatchling, now at least double, if not triple, his original size was oblivious to his rider's sudden contentment. Settled comfortably on Eragon's window seat, she could see from her lofty vantage point the two larger dragons lying side-by-side, Thorn's crimson wing draped over Saphira's comparatively narrow back. They didn't move, and didn't even open their eyes, but the dragons' postures were so obviously tender, the very image of them kindled a bloom of warmth in Arya's chest. But feeling as if she was intruding a bit, she looked away and returned her attention back to the report she was endeavoring to review. The dragon 'killing' her bootlaces wasn't a boon to her concentration.

Really, as a dragon rider, Arya wasn't meant to continue her duties as Ambassador. It was a conflict of interest. But as of yet, few had been notified of her new status, and a suitable replacement had yet to be identified. It was all just as well really, as Arya would have had little to do with herself were she not still doing her duty. She had never ceased working, even during the days immediately following becoming a rider, and neither had she or Eragon seen fit to announce publicly their relationship. Even a fortnight after her dragon's hatching, the elf hadn't gathered the courage to bring the subject to light. In general, the avoided thinking about the ridicule she knew she would receive, preferring instead to live in the happy moments that her life was made up of now. Was it anyone's business who she loved?

Her time was split between her dragon (whom she could now communicate with using feelings and images) and Eragon, if she wasn't with both at once. The hatchling spent a great deal of time with Thorn, Saphira, and Gleadr's Eldunari, learning and growing, while Eragon taught her the riders' secrets that Oromis had shared with him. Honestly, the intricacies of being a rider surprised her in their depth, complexity, and utter mystery. It shamed her to admit it, but Arya hadn't really thought there was much about the riders she didn't know. In this case, she was glad to be wrong.

"You, sir," she spoke aloud, tapping her dragon's nose with one slender finger, much to his bemusement, "are trouble. I was perfectly miserable until you showed up, and look at me now!" she exclaimed, a grin illuminating every single one of her porcelain features, "I'm smiling!"

The dragon merely stared at her, a few shreds of bootlace trailing out of one side of his mouth.

Laughing, Arya tickled him under his chin, where his scales grew softer. "One day you'll answer me." She reassured him, sending tender emotions his way, along with calming images and colors. "One day."

"_No."_

Starting as if she had just been jabbed, Arya gaped at the dragon. The voice that had just resounded within the confines of her skull was smooth and proper. She didn't recognize it, and there was no one in the room aside from herself and the hatchling in any case. "Was… was that you?" Dumbfounded, she questioned the obvious.

"_No."_ came the semi-amused reply.

A grin broke loose on the elf woman's alabaster face. _"Of course not. Surely so handsome a creature would never lower himself to speak to the likes of _me_."_ She teased lightly, this time mentally.

The dark-scaled hatchling puffed himself up like a rooster, appearing quite satisfied with himself. _"Yes. Remember that, little princess."_ He informed her smugly.

Delighted, Arya merely dropped off the window seat and settled herself on the floor. Her dragon was settled regally on his haunches and she herself was sitting cross-legged; the pair was eye-level. With gentle hands, she stroked her other half –the partner of her heart that could finally speak— on his cheek, and he hummed, closing his vivid emerald eyes happily. _"Do you have a name?"_ she asked suddenly, pausing.

Blinking unfathomably, the dragon answered, _"Perhaps."_

A guessing game it would be then, Arya thought grimly. _"Are you Enurfala?"_

"_No."_

"_Are you Liduen?"_

"_No."_

"_Are you Vanilor?"_

"_No."_

"_Are you Eridor?"_

"_No."_

"_Are you Garjzla?"_

"_No."_

"_Are you Kveykven?"_

"_No."_

"_Are you Iormúngr?"_

"_No."_

"_Are you Fundor?"_

"_No."_

The constant choir of 'no' was frustrating, but Arya would have continued for hours more were she left uninterrupted. As it was, a soft knock sounded on the doorframe of the sparsely furnished room, and the lithe form of an elf soon followed, slipping through the entrance like a shadow. It was Eragon.

Smiling radiantly, the elf woman greeted him in a subdued tone of voice.

"Arya," he replied with a sigh, standing by her side, "Nasuada awaits us for her meeting in the war room. Your mother will be attending via mirror, and both request your presence."

"It's a request, not an order." She pointed out innocently, glaring at her frustratingly unnamed dragon who had resumed destroying her boot for lack of anything better to do.

Eragon nudged her playfully. "You would leave me to face the horrors of politics alone?" in mock horror, he gasped, warm eyes wide.

Laughing freely, the elf woman accepted his proffered hand of assistance and allowed the rider to pull her to her feet. "Oh, I'll go." She sighed dramatically. "Wiol pörnuria illian." With that, she kissed him forcefully.

It took a set of needle-sharp dragon teeth to regain her attention. Yelping in startled pain, Arya broke apart from Eragon and stared at the dragon that had just bitten her leg. "What was _that_ for?" she demanded indignantly, rushing to heal the leg that was beginning to trickle blood.

The dragon snorted, kneading his ivory claws. _"I want you to look at me."_ He said as if it were obvious, _"You were listening to him, not me."_

Reddening slightly, and oblivious to Eragon's surprise at hearing her dragon speak, the elf sighed, "Well, now you have my full and undivided attention. What was so important that you had to _bite_ me?"

"_Illian."_ Was the simple reply.

Arya frowned, confused. "Happiness?" She didn't understand why the dark-scaled dragon had chosen that word, of all things, to parrot from her.

"_Illian."_ He repeated, as if this was all the answer his rider needed. But seeing her expression, he huffed a little smoke that curled lazily above his forest green snout and amended, _"I am Illian."_

* * *

Arya listened to Islanzadi's words solemnly, face becoming more hardened with each syllable. The wooden stool she was perched on groaned in protest as her grip on its rim tightened with her face.

"And what to you believe is the purpose of these attacks?" Nasuada responded quickly in the space the elven Queen took to draw a breath. "Seemingly endless attacks by Painless Ones… he must know he cannot hope to defeat you little by little! You have quite the stronghold in Gil'ead, and the might of your warriors is peerless. Sending division after division of demon-soldiers to attack you is pointless!"

"But if we sustain enough casualties," Arya interjected on behalf of the elves through her pursed lips, "we will have no choice other than to retreat back into Du Weldenvarden for the sake of species survival. We do not reproduce at the rates others do."

Understanding flashed in Nasuada's eyes, but Murtagh, who stood beside her (and held her hand beneath the table, where he thought Arya couldn't see) asked softly, "But painless ones are unintelligent and heedless of any wisdom at all. How could they pose a real threat to your elves?"

Hearing the voice of Morzan's son, Islanzadi's face suddenly grew more tired. "Individually, no." she murmured, "But my people are disheartened, and grow more so by the day. And they keep coming and coming and coming…" trailing off, the Queen seemed to shake of her exhaustion and resumed a more stern tone. "Moreover, my people are afraid that the Painless Ones are _unafraid_. There is a difference between courage and heedlessness, and with the latter comes unpredictability. We've never seen the like of these abominations."

Nodding, Murtagh signaled his understanding. "Morale." He muttered, "Far more useful than any sword ever could be."

Arya frowned, arched eyebrows moving sharply over her sparkling emerald eyes. Murtagh was right. Morale was key, and the elves— peaceful beings that abhorred taking life— were low on it. And it would cost them. Galbatorix knew that.

Beside her, Eragon stirred, recovering from a blank expression that he sometimes wore when in an especially intense conversation with Saphira. "If you don't mind," he stated quietly, "Saphira has an idea."

Slowly, but definitely, all eyes present slid to Eragon. Moving almost imperceptibly, Arya slipped her hand into his beneath the table, imitating the other pair present.

"_Arya! Arya, what's happening?" _Illian's voice suddenly burst through the elf's skull, distracting her momentarily.

"_What? Why?"_ she asked quickly, disturbed at how distressed her dragon seemed to be.

In a flash, Illian sent her a mental image. Outside of the building, Saphira's head was bowed in a fiercely determined, yet faintly sorrowful, position. Beside her, Thorn's great vermillion head was raised to the sky as he keened silently in acute anguish. Arya gritted her teeth at this and forced herself to concentrate on her own surroundings, but she maintained a clumsy link to her dragon so he as well might see what was going on. _"Watch, Illian."_ She instructed softly, _"Watch and listen to what transpires."_

"… _What does 'transpire' mean?"_

"_Just pay attention!"_

"It has come to our attention," Eragon was saying in a voice immaculately controlled, "that the war would best be served with a morale boost to the elves." Those present nodded suspiciously, already aware of this. Arya desperately wondered what her mate was going on about. "We have discussed this at length and…" He took a breath. "we have decided that a dragon and rider should be dispatched to Gil'ead to defend the elven nation."

Breath flying from her with a hiss, Arya suddenly had a flash of realization. Illian was still far to young to carry anything, much less his rider, and he was far too small to be much use in a fight. She as well still had much to learn. Murtagh and Thorn could not go. It was completely out of the question; the elven memories of their attack and execution of Oromis and Glaedr (even though Murtagh was possessed by Galbatorix) were far too fresh for his presence to be tolerated. This left only one option. Eragon and Saphira were going to Gil'ead.

Everyone present took a moment to consider the option, and there were, of course, concerns. But it was determined that Murtagh and Thorn were more than capable of defending the Varden from anything less than Galbatorix himself. Also discussed were the dangers of the short flight itself, but again, this was deemed an acceptable risk. From the expression on Nasuada's face, Arya could easily tell that she wasn't thrilled about giving up Eragon, but seeing as Eragon's guards would be staying to aid Murtagh, she seemed slightly more pacified. The girl wasn't unintelligent, and she saw clearly the wisdom of treating both the Varden and elves as equals, and the elves no longer had their dragon. So Saphira and her mate would be separated to remedy this; a sacrifice on both their parts'.

"And what of me?" Arya inquired softly, "And Illian?"

That gave the room a pause, but Eragon simply raised an eyebrow and said mildly, "My pupil will be accompanying me. What better to cheer elven soldiers than the first of the new elven riders?"

Islanzadi agreed heartily. What better indeed?

* * *

Illian squirmed uncomfortably beneath Arya's quick fingers, which darted here and there with incredible speed as she adjusted and readjusted the roll on his back.

"_That tickles!"_ he exclaimed, irritated and attempting to get away from her.

Firmly gripping one of the ivory spines on his dark back, Arya didn't allow this, carefully tracing the strap that encircled his entire girth that faded from deep green, to lighter green, and back again. _"It would tickle less if you held still."_ She pointed out fairly, giving the final strap one last tug and admiring her handiwork with a satisfied smile.

The dragon merely snarled at her, sulking. It had been a few days since it was determined that they would be leaving for Gil'ead, but it had now been pronounced that Illian, having gone though an enormous growth spurt, was now strong enough to fly such a distance. As of yet, he wasn't large enough to carry Arya and fly at the same time –she hadn't even gathered the nerve to climb up to his back—but Eragon had told her to strap the saddle to him all the same, so he could become accustomed to carrying it. Standing up with chin tall, his head was even with hers. In the street that had been cleared for their departure, it was a little cramped with both Saphira, Thorn (who was sadly making his goodbyes to his mate) and Illian taking up such space.

"_You should feel honored." _Arya wheedled at Illian, who didn't appreciate the tanned leather being attached to him and was attempting to bite it off, _"This was the saddle that Rider Brom handcrafted for Eragon and Saphira. It has travelled over all of Alagaesia, and has survived many battles. It taught Eragon to ride; it fought at the battle of Farthen Dur; and it carried me away from the shade Durza and ferried me safely to the Varden. Would you bite it from you?"_

Guiltily, Illian brought his head back around and looked at her, leaving the saddle be. _"I don't want to go to Gil'ead."_ He admitted with a soft whine, _"It is a horrible place of pain and death and… and…" _the dragon could not finish, and it was the elf's turn to now feel guilty. She had never intended… _ever_, for Illian to experience her memories of her time in Durza's clutches. But they plagued her dreams at night, and Arya could hide nothing from the partner-of-her-mind-and-heart. Especially from someone as stubborn as Illian. And so he knew every pain she had ever experienced in the loathsome place. When she had first shared the memories with him, Illian had almost gone on a wild rampage of slashing and killing, and it had taken nothing less than heavy Thorn pinning him ferociously to the ground to calm him enough so that no one would be harmed.

"_But we must face that which we are afraid of." _Arya reminded him tremulously, ignoring the noises of the city in favor of her dragon. _"Durza is gone, and a place is just a place. We should not fear a place."_

"_We can certainly _hate_ it though."_ Illian roared his anger at the sky then, guilty beyond measure that he had still been within his green-hollow-prison when his rider had gone through such a horrific experience.

For a moment of madness, Arya wished she could roar as well.

"Are you both ready?" came Eragon's quiet query from behind them. Illian immediately silenced himself, and before Arya could do anything about it, her dragon blocked her completely from his mind for a moment and stared at the man, vibrant eyes glittering like gems and fixed on his face. Clearly, something was exchanged between them, for Eragon eventually nodded slowly, and Illian began to hum.

Suspiciously, Arya glanced between them, but neither offered her an explanation. And, knowing her well enough that she was likely to demand one, Eragon prevented this by tucking one arm about her waist and leaping up on to Saphira, surprising the elf and making her let out a shriek of surprise.

Chuckling, Illian fanned his little (in comparison to Saphira's) wings and commented brightly, "_What a humiliating thing that must be, making such hatchling-like noises when startled."_

***fortnight = 14 days or 2 weeks**

* * *

**_Well... Arya returns to Gil'ead! This should be interesting... :P_**

**_Replying to Dagibsta...  
Yes, it certainly would have! But he didn't for plot reasons. :)_**

**_Replying to Silverleaf...  
You know, I really, really enjoy the dude with the sunglasses. B-)_**

**_Replying to RestrainedFreedom...  
Aw, you know me RF. Once I thought of that phrase I simply couldn't resist! XD_**

**_Replying to Inkweaverabc...  
Like my MXN reference in there? Huh? Huh? *nudges* I made that just for you! :D_**

**_Replying to Lord Lithos...  
I'm gonna go with Turkey. It's both healthy and delicious!_**

**_Replying to Obscure Soul...  
Wow, thanks for taking the time to read and leave such a lovely review! (And did you see that Seramyl was playing with Greeni? Thanks for that suggestion there! It WAS cute!)_**

**_Replying to theDiabolical...  
*blushes* Thanks! :)_**

**_Replying to Connor the traveler...  
Yeah, Silverleaf's pretty chatty. *hearts* I updated! Can I have some cake now? Or is the cake a lie? XD_**

**_Replying to Peanutbuttercup526...  
Oh hi I missed you! :D_**

_Reviews make a happy authoress... just saying, it's a good thing to have around. Sad authoresses make horrible things happen to certain green-eyed elves... XD  
(Just kidding! Or am I... *dramatic music*) _


	27. A Brief Little Ending

**IMPORTANT!**

Hey all. I know I just vanished off of the face of the planet.

I'm sorry.

It's my birthday today, and I thought it would be a fitting day to sit down and end this properly. I did warn you I was busy with marching season and school work, and on top of that, some personal shit went down. I really only got freed up mid-november. I got to sleep past 7am for the first time in three months! :D

But now to cut right to the chase.

Inheritance sucked.

I mean, I was absolutely _loving _it until those last few chapters, of which we shall not speak. *shudder* (I think CP finished the book, and the next day, his girlfriend broke up with him, after which he flew into a spiraling depression that only unspeakable hatred against his own characters could cure. It's the only logical explanation for the horrors he's wrought.)

I really had hoped to finish this, but now my head is just absolutely busting with all of the good bits of Inheritance, it would end up being the same story, only with a different ending.

So I thought, "What the hell?"

I _will_ be rewriting the ending. I figure that if I print it out and tape it into the book, declaring the _real _ending taboo, I could keep myself relatively happy. And so, I shall. :)

It will be called **Starlit **and I'd absolutely love it if anyone who is interested in _this _fic would just scoot on over _there _just as soon as I post the first chapter (today or tomorrow sometime). I'll do my best to make Inheritance a better experience for everyone, and I hope I have your support. Well, at least those of you who don't hate me for being gone so long... :O

**LESS IMPORTANT!**

****So, just for the sake of my "crazy author's notes" that I've been begged to continue, I thought I'd babble for a bit. Haters can hate. :P

Anyone play Minecraft here? (If not, you should. It wins.) Well, guess who went to MineCon? ME! I even got to talk to Notch! *nerdgasm* And SlyFox gave me a hug! *nerdgasm again* It was way fun. :D

In other news, chemistry class is absolute torture, I suck at speaking spanish even though I'm fluent (just don't ask how that's possible), and my AP European History class turned out to be da bomb, even though it's taught by a football coach who hates band. Who figured?

I had a boyfriend for a month and two days until I finally figured out that I could to better, I _still _suck at driving, and everyone in the sophomore class is getting emails from colleges except _me_, even though I'm in the top 3% of my class.

Oh, and back to minecraft, (please bear with me, I'm still just as scatterbrained as ever!) my cousin, brother, and I are going to start a let'splay series on youtube. Anyone with any ideas on plot and such should _really _drop a review telling them to me. :P

You know what I _really _am excited to play, as soon as I babysit enough to buy it? Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword! I had a complete _wiigasm_ the first time I saw my neighbor play it. Eeep!

Well, I should probably pipe down and leave you guys to it then. **Be sure to keep an eye out for my rewrite if Inheritance, Starlit! It will be out by today or tomorrow!**

_How many of you are left? I'd like to know. And I'm so glad to be back. :D_**  
**


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